


Always Been You

by natsora



Series: The Sword and The Scabbard [10]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ace main character, Amnesia, Angst, Aro Inquisitor, Aro Main Character, Aspec Main Character, F/F, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Low Self-Esteem, Major Character Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Migraine, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Romance, Slow Burn, Surgical Procedures, Vomiting, Whump, ace inquisitor, good ending, medical whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsora/pseuds/natsora
Summary: What would you do for your friend? What would you do for yourbestfriend?Trev has the answer: she’d take a bullet, she’d lay her life down. As Trev’s life hangs in the balance, Cassandra struggles to find answers of her own.Cassandra prays for the Maker’s mercy. When Trev wakes remembering little of the past few years, Cassandra's guilt threatens to swallow her whole.A story of recovery and coming together, a bond forged and strengthened through adversity and a friendship that means everything.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast
Series: The Sword and The Scabbard [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1375087
Comments: 66
Kudos: 59





	1. The OG Gang Reunites

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my OTP fic. It's all written and will be posted weekly. Check out the tags and keep in mind I am primarily an angst and whump writer. I'm putting this in The Sword and Scabbard series because it features the same Trev and Cassandra just set in the modern AU, but otherwise you can read it as a standalone.

Trev stood in front of the mirror adjusting her vest awkwardly. Her black hair, though short and mostly an undercut, had a long fringe and it had already stuck to her forehead. She hadn’t even put on actual clothes. This was just the bullet proof vest going over her sports bra and tank top. There was still the uniform Josie had insisted she — correction — all of them wore.

_At least it isn’t that hideous red version._

Perspiration rolled down her neck, she wiped it away roughly with the back of her hand. “Do I really need to wear this?”

Cullen gave her a look. He was no stranger to being present when she changed. Both of them were military, him of the Ferelden Templars, her of the Ostwick Marines, naked bodies weren’t uncommon in communal showers and shared barracks. 

“Do I really have to spell it out for you,” he asked, “Inquisitor?”

She glowered at his reflection in her mirror. The black hand brace wrapped around her left hand, keeping it still lest it hurt more. It was that kind of day, and it was only going to get worse. “You know I hate that title. I do have a name.”

“Yes, yes,” Josie tutted, glancing up from her tablet. She must have been waiting for it to refresh. Her eyes were usually glued to that thing. Wrangling the Inquisition’s public image via their social media accounts and website on top of fielding all sorts of strange requests from the media was more than a full time job. With Josie at the helm, she made it look easy. Hell, it was amazing enough she managed to secure funding when they were just a ragtag bunch of survivors on ground zero. “We all know that, Inquisitor.”

Trev’s frown deepened, knowing what Cullen and Josie were doing. They were trying to made it so irksome to be in their presence that she would hurry the fuck up and get dressed. Then, they could be on their way. The,y after all, had a plane to catch — a chartered plane paid for by the Chantry to boot. One of the many perks of being the Inquisitor. 

“You have,” Cullen said, taking the tablet from Josie, scrolling through a document on it, “at last count no less than three hundred death threats from the last six months.”

“347 to be exact,” Josie added. 

“Fine, fine,” Trev growled, checking the straps again. She didn’t need it to chafe. Chafing would be bad — very, very bad. She truly wasn’t looking forward to what the media was already calling the Exalted Council, the event that would mark the end of the Rift Incident. 

Yes, the big Rift above the Scared Ashes was sealed two whole years ago. Ground zero, five years on, bore no mark of the event that shook Thedas. Most had thought the Rift Incident was over but even as hard as they worked to locate and close all secondary Rifts, there were still reports of more being found. Plus, there was also the recovery efforts to consider. The Scared Ashes might be fine now, but there were places still rebuilding from the physical damage. Not to mention the sheer loss of lives. That wound was unseen but felt. Nobody looked out for the little people as Sera would say. 

Trev knew what people were thinking. Have a grand party, pin a stupid medal or two on her chest — even though she was discharged from the military so many years ago — and call it done. The Inquisition’s work wasn’t done and wouldn’t be done for a good while longer. 

In truth, this Exalted Council was called to address the concerns of the governments of Thedas, in particular Ferelden and Orlais, given the Inquisition’s base of operations. Neither would stomach the Inquisition’s continued existence as a citizen militia any longer now that Thedas wasn’t going to end next Tuesday. 

Trev sighed, buckling the last button. Whatever complaints she might have had about their uniform, she had to admit it made her look good. Tugging her jacket straight, her eyes traced the lines of her black jacket. It was accented with white threads and silver buttons. A black belt clinched around her waist, and a pair of black pants and shoes completed the look. What would she do without Josie? 

“Now is that so hard?” Cullen asked, stepping forward to brush some imaginary dust from her shoulders. 

“It can’t already have lint and shit sticking on it, can it?” Trev asked. “Where’s that lint roller?”

He turned and went looking for it through her drawers while Josie folded her arms across her chest. “I know what you’re doing.”

Trev’s eyebrows rose. “I’m just trying to look the best I can,” she replied as innocently as she could.

“No,” Josie rebutted. “You’re stalling. You do know this is a chartered flight right? It won’t leave without you.”

“I am not,” she protested as Josie handed her hat. For the record, it was also in black. 

Josie’s finger stabbed in the direction of the door. “It’s time to go, Inquisitor.”

Trev sighed, tucking the hat under her arm. “Do I really have to?”

Cullen chuckled. “Yes you do. If you don’t, I think Leliana will come and drag you there by your ear.”

Trev shuddered. Her former spymaster was a formidable woman. She did not want to incur the wrath of the woman who was now in charge of the entire Chantry. She had the Templars and Seekers at her command. The Inquisition’s bare bones troops was no match for that. 

“All right, all right.” She raised her hands up. “You win.”

“It will be good to see the others again,” Cullen remarked. 

Trev stiffened. It would, it really would, but it also the main reason why she was so reluctant to go. There was no way to get out of this, she knew that in her heart of hearts. “The ceremonial sword is packed?” she asked, taking the first steps towards the door. 

“Yes,” Josie said. “It’s already in the car.”

“What about my pistol? You can’t possibly ask me to go unarmed. You just told me I have a shit load of death threats,” she pointed out, this question she directed at Cullen. He was her second after… after _she_ had left to take her place by Leliana’s side, not that she begrudged Leliana of her choice. Well, she kind of did, but still…

“Yes, I’ve had it secured and got it cleared with customs on both ends,” Cullen said. “It’s already waiting at the other side.”

“No more stalling,” Josie snapped, putting her tablet away. 

Now Josie meant business. Almost nothing could drag her attention from the carefully curated social media empire she had crafted for the Inquisition. Trev held her hands up and surrendered, knowing she was only delaying the inevitable. 

* * *

The plane was more like a jet. Gleaming white and polished, it stood out against the empty tarmac. Staff were loading their cases into it. 

The last time Trev had to move was when she was discharged from the Ostwick Marines. Everything she owned then could fit into a duffle. She didn’t have much, but she had the financial ability to enrol into university thanks to the GI bill. Now, it seemed she couldn’t do anything without someone trailing behind her. She was supposed to take advantage of the bill, get a degree and find a job in a field that didn’t involved waking up at the crack of dawn for morning PTs. Look how well that plan turned out. 

_Go to a TED Talk, they say. It’s the Divine, they say. Look what the fuck happened._

Five years on and still Trev sometimes daydreamed about a world where the Rift Incident never happened. Thedas wouldn’t have been on the brink of destruction over a science experiment gone horribly wrong. She wouldn’t have been part of a militia. People banded together because they needed protection, they needed some kind of leadership. And somehow she was it. Well, that and she was the only one who wasn’t affected by the Rifts. 

Here she thought she was done with fighting. What a joke that was. She spent more time in combat in those five years as the Inquisitor than when she was enlisted. 

The Rift Incident had left her with more than just a gash across her left palm and a hand brace to manage her nerve pain. It had left her with a family formed not of blood but of bonds, a family that loved her for who she was, not how she could potentially benefit them. 

“The plane’s cleared,” Cullen said. 

Trev straightened and picked up her bag. This she insisted on carrying herself. She was no little spoilt Free Marcher noble. Hopefully, she’d be able to catch up on the books she had downloaded onto her Kindle for the five hour plane ride over, and not be forced to read dossiers upon dossiers of the various head of states that were going to be present. Maybe the ten books she had prepared was a little ambitious even taking the return flight into consideration. 

“You know, if I were to assassinate someone like myself, I’d steal a missile launcher and fire it _while_ the plane is taking off,” she pointed out. 

Cullen blanched, half turning towards Rylen, orders poised on his lips to have the entire airport checked over again. Trev chuckled until she realised Cullen was taking her seriously. 

_Oh shit, I’ve broke Cullen._

They had been working together for the past two years and Cullen still hadn’t catch on with her brand of humour. Cassandra would have snorted and ignored her. No, she corrected in her head, snorted, rolled her eyes, _then_ ignored her. A dull ache flared in her chest, and she quickly forced down. “It’s a joke,” Trev said, reaching out to grab Cullen’s shoulder. “A joke.”

Cullen’s eyes widened. “A joke, but it might be real too.”

She sighed. “Come on, let’s go,” she jerked her chin at Josie who was tapped her foot impatiently, crooking a finger in their direction. “We shouldn’t keep Josie waiting.”

Trev wouldn’t take no for answer and tugged Cullen along behind her. He had to follow or risk tripping, but he wasn’t to be deterred either. He shouted a stream of instructions at Rylen who stood on the tarmac, waving them off. “Just text him, we do actually have 4G network now,” she pointed out. 

* * *

Trev couldn’t read, so much for that idea. She stared at the words on her Kindle, and her eyes just kept skipping over lines. The plane was too noisy. It wasn’t that Cullen and Josie were in a non-stop conversation since they took off. Far from it, Cullen was vigilantly typing away at an email for Rylen, filled with instructions, protocols and guides so that he could run the Inquisition smoothly while Cullen was away. She sent a whispered prayer, to a Maker she didn’t really believe in, for Rylen’s sake. It would be one hell of an email. Josie, on the other hand, was editing photos she had forced Trev to pose for. Non-candid candid shots, according to Josie was where things are at, nobody liked obviously posed shots. Those photos would probably be going up their social media feed once they land. 

What kept her from reading was the low level hum that came with all flights. Noise cancelling headphones only made Trev feel sick so that was out of the question. Listening to music made it impossible to concentrate on the words on her Kindle. More overwhelmingly was the knowledge that after two years since most of the core members of the Inquisition had returned home or to new missions, Trev was going to see Cassandra again. Every second she spent on the plane, was one second she was getting nearer to Cassandra. It was a meeting she dreaded and craved all at once, it was unbearable. 

In a bid to distract herself, Trev pulled up the itinerary Josie had sent to her. 

> Friday 21st March 17:17 Arrival at Val Royeaux International Airport
> 
> Friday 21st March 18:47 Clear customs, depart for Grande Royeaux Hotel
> 
> Friday 21st March 19:42 Check in at Grande Royeaux Hotel
> 
> Friday 21st March 20:00 Check in on the Inquisitor, make sure she is dressed for the Formal dinner.
> 
> Friday 21st March 20:15 Formal dinner at Restaurante Drakon

The itinerary went into more and more minute detail, stretching all the way down to the point where her shower and sleep were scheduled. _Is there anything not on the itinerary?_ She checked, Josie had allowed her for a very healthy eight hours of sleep. It was generous but unnecessary in the grand scheme of things. Sleep had never been great for her, and the Rift Incident had only made it worse. 

Life was much easier when she was back in the Marines. It was almost relaxing before she was caught up in a bid to save the fucking world. Hell, even leading the Inquisition squad fighting rioters, gangs and whatever else that the Rift threw at them was less taxing than this. Politics would always be the bane of her existence. 

“Josie,” she called out. “What’s this about a formal dinner?”

“It’s just a little gathering among friends,” came the reply. 

“But a formal dinner isn’t quite what I picture for a dinner with friends.”

Josie shifted, the cream coloured leather yielded easily with the motion as she turned to face Trev. “Well this is Val Royeaux after all. Everything is formal here.”

Cullen looked up from his laptop. “Does that mean we still have to wear our uniforms to the dinner?”

“Maker, no. It’s for the press when we disembark.”

He straightened in his seat, closing the laptop. Trev knew he meant business now. “Press? Are we not landing at the private terminal?”

“Oh no, Cullen. We’re landing at the international terminal. If we want to maintain any say in what happens to the Inquisition,” Josie threw her a glance, which she averted her eyes, “we have to milk all the public appreciation we can get.”

“But security will be a nightmare,” he groaned. “We need more manpower.”

“I know, and the Divine has provided us with her best.”

Trev stiffened. The Divine’s best was her right hand. And that meant…

“Cassandra will be there with Bull and his men,” Josie completed Trev’s thought. 

She swallowed stiffly. “But wouldn’t Leliana need protection too? Why would she send her Right Hand?”

Josie’s gaze softened, no doubt reading between the lines of what Trev couldn’t put into words. Her attempt at romancing the then former Right Hand of the Divine had been short lived and apparently very public. That was something she didn’t realise it at the time. Trev had hoped she could, would, move on eventually but months and years on, it seemed this was still very much a work in progress. 

“Because you’re a VIP, and it would not do to have you assassinated at the event of the decade,” Josie replied breezily. 

Trev appreciated not having her rather obvious attempts to avoid meeting Cassandra not be remarked upon. She should get out while she’s ahead. “Yes, sure but I guess if someone assassinated me, it would solve everyone’s problem. The Inquisition has gone from being the saviour of Thedas to a thorn in every government’s side really quickly. 

“Do not say that, Trevelyan,” Josie said, her eyes flashed. 

“Yes please, my heart can’t take this stress,” Cullen added. 

_Shit. Now I’ve upset them._ Trev chuckled. “It’s just a joke, all right?”

Josie and Cullen exchanged glances. Neither looked assuaged by her words.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Let’s just enjoy this little peace and quiet before the media circus descends on us.”

“Maker, yes.” Cullen scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m not worried about today, but I am about the photo op tomorrow morning. It will be hell to secure. I should go over the plan again.”

Josie shot her one more look before turning back to her work. The silence — not silence — returned. The hum invaded her head and refused to leave. Trev leaned back against the chair and clamped her headphones over her ears, determined to disappear into the rhythmic yelling, smooth vocals and gentle guitar strings. 

_I don't wanna spend my life  
Trying to fight for what's not mine_

But no amount of Hoizer or Lumineers was going to ease the weariness that had descended upon her shoulders. 

_I don't wanna lose myself  
In someone else's dream_

She fully expected to be told to smile, to look dashing in her uniform and all the while she would be dying slowly inside standing next to the woman that — She yanked her thoughts back. It was enough she’d have to live the reality, she didn’t have to drown in them preemptively. 

_I know I was made with a purpose  
To reach past the surface  
Live life fearlessly_

Letting loose a frustrated growl, she dug around in her backpack and pulled her tablet out. 

_I want nothing less  
Than to be who I'm meant to be_

It was battered, the screen chipped off at its corners, a long crack ran down its length. The cover was dog-eared and covered in stickers. She unlocked it, purposely ignoring the photo album app, opting instead to bring up her journaling app. With a sigh, she settled into writing another entry into it. 

* * *

“Trevlyan,” someone called and shook her shoulder. 

Trev jolted to full wakefulness, her hand went straight for where her pistol would typically be, strapped to her thigh. It wasn’t there. “Fuck, Cullen, please,” she hissed when she managed calm her thumping heart. 

“Sorry, but we’re here.”

Here, as in Orlais. Here, as in Val Royeaux. Here, as in soon she’d be seeing Cassandra. _Fuck._

She pushed herself off the seat and strapped her vest on again before shrugging on her jacket. As she made her way towards the exit, Josie stopped her. Reaching towards her hair with a comb, Josie dragged it over her hair, trying to tame the mess she had acquired from the nap. Deft fingers teased her hair into artful stylised soft curls. “There, now you look presentable,” she declared before handing Trev the ceremonial sword. “Got to look dashing for the cameras.”

Trev rolled her eyes and grinned. “I’m already handsome enough as it is.”

“I wish you let me put some makeup on for you.”

“No, I might be the Inquisitor, I’m not a celebrity or superstar, I don’t need makeup. I just need this over so we can continue our work.”

“Maker willing, we’ll be done in the projected week,” Cullen said. 

“Rylen will be fine,” she and Josie said in unison, and they shared a chuckle. 

Trev took a deep breath and buckled the sword on. “Come on, the fucking press awaits.”

* * *

Trev stepped off the plane and found Bull grinning at her. “Welcome to Val Royeaux, boss.”

She laughed. Bull, or officially named Iron Bull, and his biker gang were mostly former military. It was an easy choice to recruit them to the cause. They had been vital in extending their reach beyond their initial staging ground in Haven. Now Bull and the rest of the Chargers had been contracted to play private security for this particular circus. 

“How are the others? The Chargers doing well?” she asked, staggering a couple of steps forward as Bull slapped her shoulder. 

Grimacing, she knew it was going to bruise tomorrow, and she punched the bicep Bull offered her. It was a special little greeting between them, a tradition they made up during his time with the Inquisition. Her fist thumped solidly against pure muscle, and her knuckles protested. 

“Are you getting soft, boss?” Bull asked, laughing. 

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “It’s been a while since we had to head out to close a new Rift. But there are…”

“Seven pending cases for Harding to check out and report back,” Cullen finished her sentence. 

Trev shouldered her bag. “That.”

Bull took her bag out of her hands and handed it off to one of his people. “No stuff. You have the press to meet,” he reminded her. 

She rolled her eyes and entered the airport terminal, making her way towards the customs, the private one. Blackwall who was standing inside the terminal, looking dangerous with the same black tactical gear Bull and his Chargers wore. He immediately flanked her and the others as Bull peeled off and went ahead. Apparently Leliana had hired all former Inquisition members to act as her security detail. She was glad to see Blackwall had landed on his feet. Blackwall was a former Warden, one of the few people who had volunteered and survived gene mods that enhanced his physical ability. It made sense Blackwall continued to make use of them. 

“Are you working for the Chantry now?” she asked. “Or have you joined the Chargers?”

Blackwall smiled, lips emerging from the thick dark beard that wrapped around his face. It turned his face of stone into one of a gentle teddy bear’s. “Just for this event,” he replied, his voice low and warm. “She thought it will be good to have everyone here together.”

“One last hurrah?” Trev raised an eyebrow. 

“Well that reminds to be seen,” he pointed out. “You should get a move on, I’ll see you for the dinner later.”

She snorted and clasped his hand, nearly getting her hand crushed for her troubles, before striding ahead. 

Getting her passport stamped was quick and painless, unless she counted the officer asking for a selfie. Josie shot proverbial daggers at the oblivious officer. She all but shoved Trev along as the officer grinned and waved. 

“I thought you wanted me to make nice with the press?” Trev asked innocently. 

“You know very well a customs officer isn’t the press,” she hissed, her slender fingers doing its damned best to clamp over Trev’s wider and more muscular arm. 

Trev just chuckled and allowed Josie to steer her through the wide empty passageways. Her mirth died as soon as she neared the doors. Those doors would lead her out into the main areas of airport and then towards… 

Her breath lodged painfully in her chest. It twisted in her lungs seeking a way out, preferably via her heart. 

_Cassandra._

Her former second in command was just there, doing what she did best, taking her breath away and looking extremely badass while she was at it. The Seeker along with Cullen, Leliana and Josie formed the backbone of the Inquisition, gathering information, help and resources and training all volunteers who came to their door. Her duties had since been ceded to Cullen.

The Right Hand of the Divine shared the standard tactical gear that Bull and Blackwall wore. But she was distinguished by a pair of silver bars on her collar. A silver that somehow matched the accents on the uniform that Trev wore. She shot Josie a look. The Inquisition’s spokesperson didn’t deign to look in her direction, but Trev swore she saw a smile tugging at Josie’s lips.

All thoughts of questioning Josephine Montilyet fled Trev’s mind when Cassandra’s piercing brown eyes fixed on hers. It was sheer momentum that propelled her forward. She swallowed hard against the fountain of emotions filling her chest. 

It was two years since Cassandra departed Skyhold. Here she stood, shoulders set, jaw locked, no different from the day she left. She was purpose honed into a sharp edge. And it was her new purpose that took her away from Trev. 

Trev had missed her best friend. The easy conversation, the effortless near mind reading ability they had with each other both in and out of combat. Being asexual and aromantic, she never had the desire to pursue a relationship in a traditional sense. Her life was busy enough, but the bond she had forged with Cassandra was different. There was a kinship she never had experienced before, not with her family or her comrades back in the Marines. It felt significant, filling her cracks and bolstering her. It was just special. She hadn't realised how much until the moment Cassandra confronted her and asked what her intentions were. Instinctively, old hurts flared up and she reacted badly, making assumptions when she shouldn’t. They remained friends, the best of friends even, but sometimes Trev wondered what could have been if she told Cassandra she thought of them as kindred spirits and soulmates that day. 

All Trev’s anxieties went away when Cassandra smiled. “It takes the most nerve wrecking event in my career to get you to visit?”

“You know Skyhold hadn’t moved. You could have dropped by,” Trev pointed out grinning though her ache in her chest. 

Cassandra snorted. Trev’s grin only widened. “I’ve been busy, Trev.”

The ache sharpened. She coughed and cleared her throat roughly as Cassandra’s eyebrow rose. “Just choked on my saliva.”

A low chuckle rumbled from the depths of Cassandra’s chest. It was a sound that brought back memories of shared laughter as they traded anecdotes from both their own truncated childhoods, wishes of what had they planned for themselves before the Rift Incident upset everything. 

“Trev, are you getting soft?”

_Trev, Trev, Trev._

Only Cassandra called her Trev. To everyone else she was Trevelyan or the Inquisitor, but to Cassandra she was Trev. She couldn’t explain it, hearing that familiar name was both made her happy and sad at the same time. She couldn’t put what she felt into words so she tackled what she could. Narrowing her eyes, a smirk tugged at her lips, Trev said, “Meet me in the sparring ring, and you’ll find out.”

Cassandra’s lips parted into a wide smile. “It’s good to see you again, my friend.”

Nodding, Trev’s hand hovered in the air for a moment, unsure if a hug was inappropriate after so long apart. After all, Cassandra had made herself very clear where they stood. She had no desire to violate that trust and destroy what they had. This was a bond she’d always treasure, albeit one she had been actively avoiding. 

“Are you ready?” Cassandra asked. 

The moment had passed and Trev’s hand retreated to her side. Josie stepped forward. “One moment.”

Trev grimaced as Josie teased her black hair into its place again before smoothing out the minute creases on her shoulders. “Done,” Josie declared. 

Instead of opening the doors right away, Cassandra stepped into Trev’s space, causing her to take a step backwards, bumping into Cullen. Cassandra shot her a look. Trev stiffened. “If you’re going to wear a sword, wear it properly,” she admonished. 

If there was room to move, Trev would have side stepped out of Cassandra’s reach, but with Cullen at her back, confused at the delay and Josie checking her watch and looking pointedly at the door, she had no choice but to hold still. Cassandra’s hands reached across the space and adjusted on the sword belted at Trev’s hip. Fingers deftly re-buckled the belt, and tugged the jacket back into place. As she stepped back, keen eyes raked up and down Trev’s body, she nodded to herself, satisfied. 

“Now, you’re ready,” Cassandra proclaimed. 

Trev cleared her throat again. “All right.”

Their eyes met. Once more, they were standing in the battlefield. The doors were what separated them from the enemy. Combat lay beyond them. Cassandra waited for a signal from her, just like old times, before they rushed into combat, towards an uncertain fate. This felt right, a long missing piece had slipped back into place once more. 

Trev nodded. “Fuck. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Cassandra tapped on the button keeping the doors sealed. Trev strode through flanked by her friends and comrades. Flashlights flickered so quickly like lightning, blinding her. She forced herself to stand a little straighter. The world was watching, and the Inquisition’s fate hung in the balance. 

* * *

“There you are!” Varric called as Trev finally made it into the restaurant. He was a famous blogger and reporter even before the Rift Incident. During his time with the Inquisition, he wove human stories with hard hitting facts, spreading the truth about the situation from ground zero. Even now he had his laptop open on the dining table, no doubt taking notes for a writeup of the entire affair. 

The Chantry had booked the restaurant out just for them, ensuring their security and privacy. They could speak freely here. 

“I’m starving,” Trev slumped into the chair at the head of the table. “Can they serve the food?”

“Some of us are still arriving. The others had sent word to go ahead without them, so we’re only waiting on you. Your flight is the last one to come in. I bet you got delayed at the airport.”

“Delayed? We were more than delayed,” Josie said, fuming that people had the audacity to mess with her itinerary. “I should have buffered more time for that.”

Trev reached up and dragged Josie into the empty seat next to hers. “Come on, less talking, more eating.”

The wait staff swept in with platters of food and bottles of wine. “About time!” A sharp voice rang out from the other end of the table. “What took you so long?”

Trev straightened and found a diminutive blonde waving a fork in her direction. “Sera! I’m sorry, got to deal with my _fans_.”

Sera stuck her tongue out and rolled her eyes. She came to the Inquisition as an anarchist, thinking they were a means for the little people to take back their power. By all definition of the word, Trev had feared she would be a tough fit in an organised militia, but she adapted well. The loose assembly she belonged to had chapters in every city, town and village, that meant Sera had her finger on the pulse of everything going on with the people most affected by the Rifts. And being well versed in unconventional means of information dissemination, she and Josie were a force to be reckoned with. 

“What are you doing nowadays?” Trev shouted across the table, eyes focused on grabbing a little of everything offered to her. 

“Oh I’m still running with the Red Jennies,” Sera replied, her mouth already half full, waving a drumstick as she gestured. “Someone has to look out for the little people. Organising the occasional farmer’s market, soup kitchen or job fair.”

“Doing the Maker’s work then.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Sera, please, have a little more manners,” a polished voice rang out from behind her. “This is after all Val Royeaux.” 

Trev turned around and found a black woman dressed in a striking red well-tailored pantsuit sweeping in behind. Hastily, she wiped gravy stuck to the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand. “Vivienne!” She stood, ready to offer her hand in a handshake but thought better of it. It was not quite clean enough. 

Vivienne started the Rift Incident as a politician’s aide from Orlais, a surprising position for someone born a Mage. She recognised the vital work the Inquisition did. By joining their cause, she offered aid and provided legitimacy to their cause, and she had hitched her cart to the horse that was the Inquisition. Her efforts and gamble paid off, and her popularity skyrocketed as a result. 

“Or should I say Madam Prime Minister?” Trev teased, a grin stretching her lips. 

“My dear, you’ve missed a spot,” Vivienne chided, picking up a napkin and wiping the other corner of Trev’s mouth. “And it’s just Vivienne for you, we’re friends.”

Dorian chuckled. His voice was rich and warm, matching the long and flowing gold and brown coat he wore. Standing, he bowed at Vivienne, “Madam Prime Minister, pleasure to see you again.”

Vivienne smiled. “Pleasure to see you Councillor Pavus.”

Dorian was a friend Trev had never expected to make. A citizen of Tevinter, a Mage whom if born outside Tevinter would have made him a ward of the state, to be kept under strict lock and key. He was allowed to flourish albeit under a government that kept its poor under oppressive poverty. Many leapt to the conclusion the Rift Incident was no doubt a terrorist attack launched by Tevinter. The political climate was such as it was back then. Dorian’s determination to lend a helping hand in the rapidly unravelling situation spoke much of his character. Trev wasn’t so foolish to turn down volunteers to her fumbling organisation that was growing around her. 

To see the once upon a time rebel returning to his homeland and trying to wrought change through the political process was heartening. Only two years in and he was already an elected official to the Council that ran Tevinter. One day, Dorian would bring about the change he wanted so much. Trev was confident of it. 

“Good to see you Madam Prime Minister,” Dorian near purred, shaking Vivienne’s hand. “We should talk once the main event is out of the way.” This he jerked his chin at Trev, to which she frowned. 

“We will. Have your people call my people,” Vivienne replied and drifted over to an empty seat, daintily selecting choice morsels.

Trev sighed. Her belly was full, surrounded by friends and comrades she hadn’t seen in a long time. Conversation passed back and forth, trading repartee and witty quips, if she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was back in Skyhold, a glass of cheap beer in her hand as she relaxed at Herald’s Rest. Her eyes drifted over everyone in the room and spotted a young man sitting among the others with a straw hat over his head. 

How did she managed to miss Cole with his hat in the first place was beyond her. He had always been an enigma. The young man appeared one day and started helping out with the most desperate refugees, displaced by the rifts, soothing their pain and sorrow in a way she had never seen before. Cole drifted away from the Inquisition when most of the refugees had returned to their former homes. He went along with the largest group, helping them rebuild as they sought out new lives in the wreckage once more. A kind soul with a big heart, Trev could never asked for a gentler person to join her cause. It was good to see everyone flourishing in their chosen directions after they had left the Inquisition. 

The table was full saved for one empty seat. It was reserved for Solas. Even with the Chantry’s considerable resources, Leliana had not been able to track him down. He had been a scientist researching experimental dark energy. The same energy that created the Rifts and wrecked havoc across Thedas. The same one that made her immune to its effects and in turn elevating her to be Thedas’ only saviour. His knowledge had been invaluable but with the closing of the main Rift, he disappeared into the night as if he had never been there before. 

The doors opened and a hush fell over the room — or maybe that’s just Trev’s imagination. The Divine and her Right Hand entered. Leliana, the Nightingale and intelligence officer of the Inquisition, now Divine Victoria of the Chantry. She pulled the hood of her jacket off her head. Trev made a note of it. She would employ that trick next time. Leliana’s flaming red hair gleamed under the warm chandelier light as she smiled. “Welcome, I hope the food to everyone’s liking?” 

“It’s good, but I need more,” Sera said. 

“More beer,” Bull shouted. 

“I’d prefer wine,” Dorian retorted. 

As the rest provided noisy feedback, Trev only had eyes for the person behind the Divine. Dressed in a red vest, a white shirt with its top couple of buttons undone, sleeves folded up to her elbows and a pair of black pants and sharp looking shoes completed her look, was Cassandra. 

Trev inhaled and held it. It was impossible to tear her eyes away. She was fine, she really was. They were adults, Cassandra made her boundaries clear, and she would never cross them. Friends was what Cassandra offered and Trev accepted it. They remained comrades in arms and nothing could take those years away they shared in the Inquisition from them. 

Cassandra and Leliana joined the table, and the conversation surged once more. “Life is good,” Trev whispered. 

**Lyrics taken from[Who I’m Meant To Be by Anthem Lights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVb8OJEQGIQ)**


	2. Almost like Old Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A parade, there always must be one. No amount of talking to Divine Victoria would convince her that the troops would be better used for crowd control to manage the adoring fans of the Inquisitor Trevelyan, Divine Victoria and the Prime Minister of Orlais have. 
> 
> “We need to show others we have the capability to back our word up, also what’s wrong with seeing our men and women in uniform?” the Divine pointed out. 
> 
> “Well, these fans of yours—”
> 
> “Adoring public of whom we serve,” Divine Victoria injected. “And stop thinking of me as the Divine in your head.”
> 
> Cassandra frowned. “How—”
> 
> Divine Vic— Leliana’s eyes narrowed. It was no wonder she ran a network of spies and informants. Reading Cassandra’s expression must have been as easy as reading a book. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone, wishing all a happier, healthier, more successful (however you define it) 2021 ahead. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

A parade, there always must be one. No amount of talking to Divine Victoria would convince her that the troops would be better used for crowd control to manage the adoring fans of the Inquisitor Trevelyan, Divine Victoria and the Prime Minister of Orlais have. 

“We need to show others we have the capability to back our word up, also what’s wrong with seeing our men and women in uniform?” the Divine pointed out. 

“Well, these fans of yours—”

“Adoring public of whom we serve,” Divine Victoria injected. “And stop thinking of me as the Divine in your head.”

Cassandra frowned. “How—”

Divine Vic— Leliana’s eyes narrowed. It was no wonder she ran a network of spies and informants. Reading Cassandra’s expression must have been as easy as reading a book. 

“Fine,” she sighed, a lapse in propriety and protocol. After all, one didn’t simply sigh at a Divine, but they were friends and colleagues for a long time now. 

“You do know the true purpose of the Exalted Council, right?”

“Obviously it isn’t merely to honour the Inquisitor for her heroic efforts.”

“They want the Inquisition dissolved or chained.”

Leliana braced her arms against her desk. Her private offices were modest compared to the pomp and finery her position normally afforded. The room held a well made wooden table no doubt something with history etching into its core and a stiff straight back chair to match. Portraits of Divines past lined the walls. So far so defensible, until they came to the tall windows that stretched from ceiling to floor that lined an entire side of the room. They were Leliana’s favourite part of the room given how often Cassandra caught her staring out of them, holding a well-worn letter in her hand. 

“Trev wouldn’t stand for it,” Cassandra pointed out without hesitation. 

“I know,” Leliana’s voice was low, her tone grave. “But they can’t continue as they have, without oversight. They can’t function if the rest of the nations withdraw their aid and bar their entry.”

“Josephine—”

“Josie is a miracle worker but even she can’t surmount this.”

Cassandra sighed again, louder this time. Politics, it would be the death of everything good in this world. Leliana rounded her desk and squeezed Cassandra’s shoulder. “I won’t let Trevelyan weather this alone.”

Cassandra nodded. “ _We_ won’t.”

And that was how they somehow ended up with a parade of all things. Cassandra glanced at her encrypted document listing all the credible death threats towards the Divine and the rest of their guests. She had to take a deep breath to marshal her strength.

_It seems being part of the crew that saved Thedas is not a guaranteed way into the hearts of people._

The Exalted Council was going to be a trial for her and… She glanced to her side. Trev stood on her left, while Leliana was on her right. Ostensibly her job was to protect the Divine, but her responsibility extended to all their guests. Trev, despite the smile she had plastered on her face for the press and the public, looked exhausted. 

Josephine had done well. The uniform was an excellent choice, Cassandra couldn’t help but admire it. Black and silver wrapped around Trev’s well toned body with ease, highlighting her board shoulders, the sharp cut of her jawline and those biceps of hers. Trev looked better than she did when they found her under the wreckage at the Scared Ashes. A former Marine, one that had gone a little soft after a year or so out of the Navy. 

They didn’t begin as friends. Trev started off as a suspect, a prisoner, a target for her grief and anger, but Trev submitted herself to questioning, weathering Cassandra’s own near legendary temper. If anyone were to tell her that the suspect to Divine Justinia’s murder would become one of her best friends, she’d punched the person in the jaw and call them a fool. 

But now… she offered Trev a small smile. Trev’s eyes were trained on the parade before them. Cassandra didn’t think she saw but the plastic smile plastered across her face turned into a self satisfied smirk. It was all Cassandra could do not to keep from groaning in disgust. It was good to see Trev again. She had missed her dear friend, but her duties kept her busy. Likewise, Trev had been travelling all over Thedas closing what remained of the Rifts, helping communities that needed a little spotlight shone on their plight. She was doing the Maker’s work. 

Eyes lingering on the sculpted muscles hidden under the uniform, Cassandra could only lament her lack of time to hit the gym herself. There wasn’t anyone who would take her up in the sparring ring either. _Maybe I can tempt Trev to spar with me between all the meetings she is going to have. She did challenge me after all._

Trev sighed. It was a soft sound barely audible above the marching boots and shouted commands. She was no doubt bored, never one to be still for very long when there were things she deemed more worthy of her time. Cassandra leaned over, “It’s almost over soon. Once the 103rd Battalion of the Orlesian Templars marches out, it will be done.”

Trev didn’t speak. Her mismatched eyes, made so by the Rift Incident, were trained in the vague direction of the battalions. The commander shouted a command. In unison, the Templars lifted their rifles and rest it against their shoulders before saluting. Cassandra and Trev lifted their arms and returned the salute. Both of them repeated the process over and over for each battalion that marched past. Rows upon rows of Templars clad in bright white uniforms, polished black boots that glinted in the sun. Arms and legs swinging in practised co-ordination. 

Trev leaned over towards Cassandra, whispering. “Which one is the 103rd?”

“Oh I meant, the 103rd is the last of the Templar Battalions,” Cassandra replied. “There are the Mages squads after that.” 

That caught Trev’s attention, her head jerked over and her eyes widened. “You have got to be kidding me,” she hissed. 

Cassandra returned the same satisfied smirk Trev had earlier. “Endure, Trev. It will be done soon.”

The only response she got was yet another sigh. 

* * *

One by one, Trev eyed each and every head of state present. Who wanted to tear down the Inquisition with all the good they had done? How many truly know the suffering of their people during the height of the Rift Incident? Did they know so many were still struggling to rebuild?

It was the Chancellor of Nevarra speaking now, a something or other Pentaghast, no doubt a distant relative of the other more famous Pentaghast who was nowhere to be seen. Cassandra had abandoned her, leaving her squished between Leliana and Vivienne. Neither were inclined to allow her to escape this mind numbing situation. 

“At least President Theirin was quick about it,” she muttered under her breath. 

Vivienne remained silent, her back ramrod straight, her eyes trained towards the back of Chancellor Less Famous Pentaghast who was droning on and on in that nasally whiny voice of his. 

“He sounds like he has a squeaky toy stuck in his throat,” she continued. “Maybe he needs medical attention?”

Leliana snorted, a soft huff of amusement. She turned her head discretely. “Trevelyan, it’s almost done. Once we pin those medals on your chest, we can head on inside for some refreshments.”

Trev sighed. Her foot bounced slightly in lieu of being able to walk off the stage entirely. She had no choice in the matter. There would be no end of press coverage about the rude heathen who stomped off in the middle of the very ceremony meant to honour her if she did. That would create a tsunami’s worth of work for Josie. She could do without Josie being the latest additional to a long list of names of people who wanted her dead. Her restless foot tapped a vague rhythmic beat only to be stopped when Vivienne slid her palm onto Trev’s thigh, stilling it. Sharp fingernails stabbed into her leg. One sharp look later, Trev got the message — sit, don’t move and shut up. 

This was torture. 

The rest of the head of states had their turns. One by one they spoke their piece and took their seats off the stage, in the front row. Only Vivienne and Leliana were left on the stage with her. 

“Inquisitor Trevelyan.” Leliana’s voice echoed across the open square. It was lined with gleaming skyscrapers, soaring structures reaching towards the blue skies. They almost looked like they were holding the heavens up. “She and the Inquisition had stepped up when nobody had. Risking life and limb, working day and night, fighting a battle we cannot possibly imagine. Today we honour her.”

At first a mere smattering of polite applause came from the seated audience, but the sound grew louder. “Trevelyan! Trevelyan!” Sharp whistles cut through the noise as everyone took up the cheer. 

Trev stiffened, her eyes wide and wild as she gazed at the crowds. They were chanting her name. When she decided not to renew her tour of duty with the Marines, she hadn’t expect to be standing as the head of a civilian army. This wasn’t the direction she had imagined her life to have taken, being the only survivor of a freak accident, being immune to the strange phenomenon that sprouted across Thedas. Most of all she had not imagined she would be receiving accolades for it. 

Cassandra stepped onto the stage. She held a black velvet box. With a quick pull, she opened it. Inside laid a gold sunburst emblem attached to a white ribbon. Trev recognised it as the Chantry’s highest honour, the Golden Sun. Next to it laid an ornate silver Orlesian chevalier insignia made up of a shield overlaid with a pair of crossed rapiers and attached to a blood red ribbon. 

“The nation of Orlais honours Inquisitor Trevelyan with the Order of Orlais,” Leliana said as the cheers died down. 

Cassandra, Vivienne and Leliana clustered together in the centre, while Trev remained by herself at the other end. She awaited the signal to step forward and accept these medals. Cassandra held out the opened box to Vivienne. The Mage turned Prime Minister picked the medal up. 

“Please step forward Inquisitor Trevelyan,” Vivienne called. 

Trev took a deep breath. Just as she was about to step forward, something caught her attention. A glint of light against glass. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stood on its ends. Her mind told her, it was nothing, just the sun reflecting off the glass panelled skyscrapers, but her gut screamed at her. 

_Something is wrong._

Her eyes darted across the crowd. There was it again! Another glint of light from the very same spot. Her body was locked in mid step. The crowd murmured, wondering at her hesitation. Then, it hit her. 

_Sniper._

A dancing red dot tracing its way over Vivienne’s and then Leliana’s torso, heading towards Cassandra’s. 

_No!_

Trev didn’t think, she acted. Time slowed. Lunging, she threw herself against Leliana who was nearest. Heart slamming against of her chest, she felt like she was travelling through quicksand. Every step agonisingly slow. There was no finesse, no grace. She collided into Leliana, pushing her to the ground. The crowd’s collective gasp of shock rang out.

_Faster!_

Trev reached out. Her arms moved so infuriatingly slow, she half wondered if she was fighting through a stasis field, one of the many strange effects when in the vicinity of Rifts. But this couldn’t be, she was immune to them. 

A boom roared across the square. The crowd flinched as one. Trev was already committed in her rough descend towards Vivienne and Cassandra. Her left hand found Cassandra’s arm, her right Vivienne’s wrist, her grip was bruisingly tight. She needed them down on the ground—

One moment, she was sailing through the air, desperation crawling in her veins, the next something slammed into her chest, punching the air out of her lungs. Pain flared across her ribs. Someone had taken a sledge hammer to her chest, her vision went completely white. 

But it provided fuel to her momentum, throwing her forward that much faster. Slamming into Vivienne and Cassandra with as much dignity as a flying nug, she managed to send them all crashing to the ground. All she managed was a little pitiful cough as agony squeezed her chest. 

“Assassin,” she gasped as all hell broke loose. 

* * *

Alarms went off in Cassandra’s head. She needed to get the Divine to safety. There was no way in hell she was losing another Divine, not to an assassination attempt. Even as questions filled her mind, fury coursed through her. How could she had missed this? Hadn’t the teams swept the nearby buildings? Everything was supposed to run smoothly. She was a veteran of combat, plans never stood up in the face of reality. Adapt and survive. Her priority was the Divine. 

Leliana scrambled, on her hands and knees as undignified as it was, towards the relative safety of the wide podium set up on stage. Vivienne, on the other hand, tried to stand. Cassandra didn’t bother warning Vivienne and pulled her roughly back down on the ground. “No, there’s a sniper.”

Security forces rushed onto the stage only to be kept at bay by another shot. The sound echoed through the rapidly emptying square. Cassandra jerked her head towards the podium, Leliana offering a hand to Vivienne as she crawled over. Taking a deep breath, she shoved Trev ahead of her. Her attention turned inwards the moment she pressed her back against it. Pressing a hand against her ear, she barked into her comms. “Bull, Blackwall, report!”

“I’m taking a team to check the House of Jeshavis,” Bull reported instantly. “Krem’s team is taking Banco Montfort.”

“I’m covering the White Spire,” Blackwall added. 

“Keep me updated.” Cassandra drew her pistol, feeling utterly under equipped to deal with the situation. She kept a hand on the Divine almost afraid Leliana was going to disappear from her sight and history would repeat itself. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Leliana growled. “Trevelyan saved my life.” Despite her elevated position as the head of the Chantry, Leliana was no stranger to the battlefield. Fire flickered dangerously behind those eyes. She stood shoulder to shoulder with the Hero of Ferelden at the last great war. Leliana drew the tiny pistol strapped to her ankle. She nodded at Cassandra. “At your word,” she said, ceding the authority to Cassandra. 

Cassandra took a deep breath, eyes flickering to Vivienne. Her face was ashen with sweat beading across her forehead. The Prime Minister of Orlais was powerful mage but even as strong as she was, she was no match to a rifle caliber bullet at long range. Right now, Vivienne was as vulnerable as any of them. “Go on my mark.”

Trev grunted as she shifted closer. “What are you doing?”

Cassandra’s eyes met Trev’s. Maybe it was the trick of the light, her left eye, the one marked by the Rift Incident seemed to glow a green so bright it felt unnatural. Gratitude filled her chest. Trev was the only one who had reacted. Without her, Maker knew what would had happened? 

“Covering my guests,” Cassandra replied. 

Trev’s jaw tightened, but a sort of calm descended over her. It was a look Cassandra recognised. Trev was preparing for combat. “I’ll help.” Her hand went straight to her thigh where she’d normally have her pistol strapped to. But she wasn’t in Skyhold or out on the field either. The gun wasn’t there. “Fuck.”

Leliana thrusted the tiny pistol into Trev’s hand. “You’ll do better than I.”

Trev nodded, inhaling sharply before her face twisted in a grimace of pain. 

“Are you hurt?” Cassandra asked, grabbing Trev’s arm. To which Trev shook her head but the grimace deepened. “Are you sure? Were you shot?”

“I have a vest on,” Trev gritted out, her hand still tight against her chest. “I’m okay. Let’s get them out of here.”

Taking a deep breath, Cassandra nodded tightly. Trev squared her shoulders and popped up, immediately firing the pistol in the general direction where the shots had been coming from. 

“Go low, go fast. Now!”

Adrenaline was running high. To stay and talk was death. Cassandra waved both Leliana and Vivienne on. Trev’s shots rang in her ears. Leliana didn’t need any prompting, half crouching, half scrambling, she ran into the direction of the waiting security personnel. Cassandra had faith in them. They were hand picked by her. Once Leliana was safe, she turned away. With a growl, she channelled her frustration into gunfire. 

Pressed up against Trev, they fought shoulder to shoulder. It felt like old times. Cassandra half expected Trev to curse at the sniper, to complain about the sheer audacity of turning what was meant to be an occasion for joy and celebration into utter pandemonium.

Cassandra recognised it. Teeth biting down hard on that lower lip, nearly drawing blood, this was one of Trev’s tells. The Inquisitor was stubborn and in pain. It seemed old habits die hard. “Are you all right?” She was getting tired of asking the same question, but if Trev couldn’t take care of herself, someone had to. 

“Fine, just fine.” Trev forced the words through her teeth, her voice was strangely wet and grabbled. “Just fucking winded.” Her lungs gulping down oxygen hungrily, each rise and fall of her chest made her bite down on her lip harder. 

Cassandra wasn’t convinced. Trev was telling a bald-faced lie. She was helpless if Trev was determined to brush aside her concerns and the middle of a gun fight was certainly not the place to address it. Trev looked pointedly at the podium. “This isn’t going to hold against a high caliber round. Go, I’ll cover you. Your team needs you to run this fucker down.”

Cassandra glared at Trev but a round punched through the podium just above their heads, making Trev’s point eloquently on her behalf. 

“Go, your guys can cover me later,” Trev insisted, shoving her weakly with one hand. 

With a frustrated growl, Cassandra bent low, running towards safety. Every step away from Trev felt wrong. Her guts twisted, her mouth ran dry, her hand itched to grab Trev’s arm in hers. All sounds were seemingly muted and far away. There was only the sharp and high pitched bark of Trev’s tiny pistol, the laboured wheezing of Trev’s breath, and Cassandra’s own footsteps thumping against the ground. 

A shout sliced through the strange bubble she was trapped in. It was Trev’s voice. She was shouting Cassandra’s name. But why?

Cassandra twisted to see the glint of a red sight flashing in her face. Fear seized her chest as she tried to move faster. How could she outrun a bullet? A cry of anger caught her attention. Trev lunged towards her, hands thrown out in an attempt to tackle her. 

“No!” A single word of defiance and fury surged through the air. 

In the space between seconds, red erupted across Cassandra’s vision. Trev jerked once, her eyes widened before rolling up to the back of her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	3. All the King’s Horse, All the King’s Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No!” The word rushed from between Cassandra’s lips. It was a prayer to the Maker that went unfulfilled. All that echoed in her head was the boom of a far away rifle. 
> 
> _That bullet is meant for me._
> 
> The thought rattled in Casandra’s head like a loose rock, gaining speed and momentum as Trev crashed against her, limp and boneless, a complete deadweight against her chest. 
> 
> “No.” The word escaped her lips in a whispered plea. Blood ran down Trev’s face and the side of her head. 
> 
> _Trev took the bullet for me. That stupid fool._
> 
> Cassandra swallowed the rising fear, forcing it back by sheer will. Training took over. Half cradling, half dragging, she took Trev’s weight in her arms. “Get me a fucking medic!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning for medical procedures**
> 
> Hang on everyone, the whump has arrived.

“No!” The word rushed from between Cassandra’s lips. It was a prayer to the Maker that went unfulfilled. All that echoed in her head was the boom of a far away rifle. 

_That bullet is meant for me._

The thought rattled in Casandra’s head like a loose rock, gaining speed and momentum as Trev crashed against her, limp and boneless, a complete deadweight against her chest. 

“No.” The word escaped her lips in a whispered plea. Blood ran down Trev’s face and the side of her head. 

_Trev took the bullet for me. That stupid fool._

Cassandra swallowed the rising fear, forcing it back by sheer will. Training took over. Half cradling, half dragging, she took Trev’s weight in her arms. “Get me a fucking medic!” 

* * *

Cassandra couldn’t rightly talk about what really happened after that. It felt like a fever dream. Everything was too loud, too near, too in her face but yet muted and removed. But the things she did remember were craved into her mind. 

Iron. She was no stranger to the smell of blood, but it coated her hands as she used a nearby tablecloth to try and staunch the bleeding. Rivets of red soaked through the cloth, rapidly staining her hands and clothes. There was no stopping it. 

“Keep the pressure on that wound,” the medic barked, handing her a hemostatic bandage. 

Cassandra took it mechanically, tossing the blood stained cloth away. She remembered the sound it made. A wet plop as it landed on the ground, smearing Trev’s vital blood across the cold and uncaring ground. 

“Harder!” the medic growled. 

Cassandra renewed her efforts. Her heart slammed against her ribs harder as Trev let out a groan. Her eyes fluttered and remained open though they were pain glazed and drained. Trev had regained consciousness. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Cassandra thanked the Maker over and over again. 

“Can you hear me Trev?” she asked as Trev’s gaze drifted away from hers. 

Trev’s mouth opened and closed as if trying to say something. Cassandra leaned in closer, catching whispers. “The rest… safe?”

Maker! An inordinate amount of anger flared in Cassandra chest. Why was Trev asking after others when she was the one bleeding all over the ground? 

The medic shouted into his comms as he ran a pair of medical shear across Trev’s clothes, ripped apart that uniform Cassandra had liked on Trev so much. Practised hands helped to remove the vest and then her tank top and bra only to reveal a bruise that stretched across the entire left side of her chest. 

“Shit.” 

The medic palpated the area. Trev cried out weakly. The sound pierced Cassandra’s heart like a knife to her chest. The medic attached various devices to Trev, an oximeter to her finger, a blood pressure cuff to her arm. The monitor at his feet started beeping in time to Trev’s pulse. 

“How does it look?” Cassandra asked urgently. “I mean she’s responding to verbal questions. That’s good isn’t it?”

The medic’s face was grim. He barked into his comms. “Where the fuck is that stretcher?”

Those few minutes stretched into forever. Cassandra noticed Trev’s eyes never left her face. The hardened gaze Trev had during combat was gone, but this wasn’t the cheeky glint Cassandra was familiar with either. It was soft and almost at peace. 

“No.” A breath caught painfully in Cassandra’s chest. “No, Trev. You don’t get to do this. Hold on. Maker, you’re stronger than this!”

This wasn’t something she had seen in Trev before. It felt like giving up, it felt like letting go. 

“Others, safe?” Trev asked, the words making through her lips in a wet hiss. 

“Yes, yes, they are. Trev, you’re in good hands, just stay awake for me, please.”

Cassandra might have been proud, but she wasn’t above begging especially if it got things she wanted. She was beseeching the Maker now. The medic worked frantically to shore up Trev’s blood pressure, pumping her with all manner of drugs to keep her afloat. 

Trev lifted her left hand, the one marked by scar tissue. Her fingers trembled from weakness caused by pain and blood loss. Cassandra couldn’t bear to see Trev exerting herself like this so she grabbed it. 

“I’m here, Trev. I’m here.” Pleas tumbling from her lips in a frenzy. She could no longer maintain the stoic hardened facade in the face of this. 

This was Trev, her friend. No, not _just_ her friend, but one of her best and deepest friendships she had formed in a long time. Work had made sure Cassandra barely had time to socialise, not that she wanted to anyway. She much preferred the company of her books and a glass of good red wine. A quiet night alone was her idea of a good time. Relationships took up too much time, and they were terribly messy. Losing Regalyan to the Rift Incident was hard enough, but that relationship was characterised more by the long periods they were apart than the time she spent wrapped in his arms. She powered through it. The world was ending after all, she barely had time to sleep let alone grieve. 

Trev was different. She wormed her way passed Cassandra’s determination to keep the suspect at an arm’s length. Even after Trev’s name was cleared, Cassandra maintained a professional distance. She didn’t need distractions. It was difficult to do so when they spent so much time on the road together. Trev had a natural warmth to her, talking to people, finding out what they needed. Every mission was conducted for the sole purpose of shutting down Rifts. They typically ended up with Trev dragging everyone along to help the locals in all manners of repairs and rebuilding efforts. This was what won her universal accolades among the general populace. 

In combat, Trev fought with a focus that rivalled even trained Templars and Seekers, both of whom Cassandra was convinced were the best soldiers Thedas would ever see. She was deadly on the field, preferring the mid and close range of alternating between a rifle and a shotgun, but combat was always her last option to diffuse any situation. 

Trev was extraordinary. 

For all that she had given to Thedas, stepping up where nobody would, nobody could, she lay dying on the cold hard ground the very day Thedas gathered to honour her. If this wasn’t some kind of sick joke the Maker was making, Cassandra didn’t know what was. 

Trev’s fingers closed around her hand surprisingly tightly. “…you.”

“What are you saying?” Cassandra asked, leaning in closer. Her nose brushing against Trev’s. 

“It has always been you.”

Cassandra stiffened. Trev’s gaze held her fast, her left a brilliant green, her right an amber so gentle. They bore into Cassandra’s, right into her mind. Maker, they saw right through to her soul. Words dried up in Cassandra’s mouth. What did Trev meant? What was she trying to say? Why has it always been her? 

“Always.” As that final word left her lips, Trev’s grip tightened, coughing hard. Blood dribbled from her lips. Fingernails bit into Cassandra’s skin painfully. 

Cassandra’s racing pulse was only matched by the desperate breaths from Trev. As Trev’s chest heaved harder and harder, the monitor started beeping with alarming frequency. 

“Fuck,” the medic cursed, pulling equipment from his bag. “Hold her down.”

Cassandra didn’t question the order. She gripped Trev’s hand tighter, putting her weight against Trev’s arms, pinning them down. 

“Hey! Hold her legs down,” the medic shouted at a couple of security guys. They hurried over and held down one of Trev’s legs each. 

Alarm crept up Cassandra throat as Trev’s lips grew pale, then blue. Her ragged breaths scared Cassandra more than the blood she was coughing up. The monitor blared and flashed louder and brighter. 

“This is going to hurt,” the medic told Trev, her eyes were wild as she fought them weakly. 

The medic didn’t waste anymore words. He palpated the area before he poured a pack of antiseptic over Trev’s bared chest. Cassandra could see things shifting underneath Trev’s skin. Ribs, her ribs were broken. The vest had taken the brunt of the impact of that first shot, preventing the bullet from penetrating her skin, but the kinetic force wasn’t going to be denied. 

A scalpel glinted against the sun streaming in. The medic pressed it down against Trev’s bruised skin. She cried. It was all Cassandra could do to keep Trev motionless. The medic dropped the scalpel and shove a finger into the hole he had cut, working his finger back and forth, enlarging the hole. Blood poured from her new wound. Trev’s cries subsided, weakening not because it hurt any less, but because she was exhausted. The whimpers were no less painful to hear. They were soft whines of an animal too wounded, too weak to fight any longer. A tube was quickly introduced into Trev’s chest before he covered the hole with more bandages. The monitor evened out, the alarms grew less shrill in their urgency. 

“Out of the way!” someone shouted. 

Cassandra straightened, ready to defend Trev. But it was the stretcher and the medical team. She shuffled out of the way as they loaded Trev on and took her away. The medic rattled off stats and getting the doctor up to date. Through it all, Trev’s eyes never left hers. Her mouth opened and closed, forming words Cassandra recognised all too well now. 

> “Always been you.”

It took real effort to pull her gaze from Trev. She directed her eyes at the medic, the one who had saved Trev’s life. “Help her.”

He nodded before the team hurried off with Trev. 

_Maker, please. Just keep her safe._

* * *

Twenty minutes after the first shot was fired, it was all over. Bull and Blackwall reported they found a sniper’s nest at one of the location. The sniper was gone with the wind. The various head of states were all locked away in the various panic rooms the Chantry had scattered throughout its vast compound. Her people were guarding them until they could arrange secure transport for each and every single one of them. 

Cassandra’s mood was foul when she strode into Leliana’s office. A pair of rifles swung up to her chest exactly as she had trained them. She nodded to the pair. One of them spoke into his comms. “It’s the Right Hand.” He waited, head cocked to one side listening. “Yes, Divine Victoria.” 

He nodded to his partner. They keyed their passcode into twin num-pads and the panic room’s door opened. “Good job,” she said curtly as she passed them. 

Inside were a second pair of guards. These didn’t turn their weapons on her, instead they nodded their greetings but reassumed their posts. The room wasn’t large. There was nothing but a desk and a chair, along with a sofa at the side. There was an ensuite bathroom and a small pantry. Leliana was seated at the desk, eyes darting across a laptop’s screen. Cullen was pacing up and down the the small room in laps. Josephine sat, face ashen on the sofa. She reacted first. 

“Where’s the Inquisitor?” 

Cassandra’s jaw tightened, her countenance darkened. Josephine’s eyes widened as she finally took in Cassandra’s red stained hands. “Oh no, oh no, Cullen.”

Cullen hurried over, wrapping his arm protectively around Josephine, helping her back to the sofa. “What happened to Trevelyan? Where is she?”

Cassandra took a shuddering breath. Leliana stood and crossed the space between them. She found the urge to apologise, to plead for forgiveness, to tender her resignation, to do something other than standing here locked in her failure. 

“Divine Victoria, I’m sorry. I’ve failed you.” The words tasted bitter. 

“Are you hurt?” Leliana asked, hands gripped Cassandra’s shoulder, running down her arms, checking her over. 

“No.”

“What about Trevelyan?” 

Cassandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, Leliana shook her head, eyes darting to the guards. “Has the alarm been rescinded?”

“It won’t be for another hour or so. Bull, Blackwall and the team is clearing the Chantry to make sure there isn’t another attempt.”

“Fine. Yang and Curtis,” this Leliana directed to her guards. “I’ll require you to step out for a moment.”

They obeyed. When the door closed, Cullen stepped up to her face. “Stop stalling, where is Trevelyan? I didn’t see what happened in the chaos. Whose blood is that you got on your hands?”

“She was shot.”

“Where is she?” Cullen stepped closer still. “Maker, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Security has fucked up. Where is she? Where is the Inquisitor?”

“Cullen, please,” Leliana said, pressed a hand against his chest. “Trevelyan is our friend too.”

Cullen took a step back, realising what he had been implying. Pushing a shaky hand through his hair, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. Just… where is she?”

“The doctors has her now. She is in good hands,” Cassandra said. She didn’t quite trust her words but she held them close. Trev wouldn’t fall. She was strong, she would pull through. She had to. 

“Does she have guards?” Leliana asked. 

“Yes. I’ve sent a pair of guards with her.”

“Do we know who the target is?”

Cassandra shook her head, anger flaring to life again. “No, our investigations are still going. We’re co-ordinating with the Templars and Seekers to set up cordons. Blackwall is running point on that.”

Leliana nodded. “The other heads of state have their own security. But Trevelyan didn’t have her own. You should be there.”

“We should be there too,” Cullen pointed out. “She shouldn’t be alone. She’d have instructions for us. The Inquisition still needs her.”

Cassandra’s head jerked up. “What about you? My job is your security. My place is by your side.”

“I have my personal detail with me. I promise to keep to this panic room until you give the word. But Trevelyan is vulnerable. She took the bullet for me.”

_And me._

“And we do not know if she is the target. She isn’t without enemies.”

“347,” Josephine spoke up, her voice broken. “She had 347 active death threats as of this morning.”

What Leliana said made sense, but her duty was towards the Divine not Trev as much as a friend she was. Leliana’s arguments were well thought out and sound. Cassandra could find anything she could really object to, other than the fear to return to Trev’s side and to find her still and pale — dead. No matter how Cassandra felt, she would always carry out her duty. 

“Understood.”

Leliana squeezed her shoulder. Comfort from a friend who understood how shattered Cassandra felt, but she couldn’t accept this now. Cassandra straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. “Stay here, I’ll send Yang and Curtis back in. I’m doubling your guards and locking down the entire compound.”

“I will,” Leliana assured her. “I’ll coordinate things from here. I’m not entirely cut off from the outside.”

Cassandra strode out with Cullen and Josephine following. “Robinson, what’s the status on the Inquisitor?” she asked through the comms. 

“The Inquisitor’s CT scan and X-Ray has just been completed. They are taking her to the OR now,” came the reply. 

“Good, I’m getting Reinhard and Marshall to meet you. I’ll see you at the OR. Let me know if anything changes.”

“Understood.”

She turned back to Cullen’s worried eyes and Josephine’s grieving ones and relayed the information. Nobody spoke after. All that was left was to get to the OR. 

* * *

Echoes of their shoes striking the clean white floors preceded them. The long corridor was lined with doors. Maker’s Mercy was built right next to the Grand Cathedral with an underground passageway linking between the two. It allowed Trev to be rushed to the emergency department away from prying eyes. 

An entire private wing was dedicated to the Divine for her needs when discretion was required. A full staff of medical doctors and nurses could be re-routed at a moment’s notice. After all, the Maker’s Mercy was built and funded by the Chantry.

The operating room loomed into sight. Situated right at the end of a long corridor, its large double wide doors was set flushed next to a series of glass panels looking in. Cassandra glanced at the table set in the middle of the space, bright lights hovered over it. It was empty. Nurses were busy prepping equipment and supplies. 

Trev wasn’t here yet. 

Josephine touched her shoulder. “Cassandra, is there a room where we can wait?” she asked. 

In the time it took for them to walk from Leliana’s panic room to the medical wing, Josephine had mastered herself. Though her nose was a touch red but all else she was the mistress of poise and calm. “We will need access to the internet. We have our own little crisis to manage.”

Cassandra nodded. “Of course.” 

They backtracked to one of the smaller rooms, marked office suite. She scanned her card key and unlocked it. Flicking on the lights revealed a large desk with six chairs arrayed around it. Multiple cables were hidden under a panel on the desk. There were provisions for coffee and tea, the usual beverages as well as protein bars and a small variety of fruits. 

Josephine slipped past Cassandra and plugged her mobile phone into one of the cable with practised ease. She was already on the phone, relaying what news she had. Pressing a hand to the receiver, Josephine looked over. “I’ll talk to Rylen and keep him up dated.”

Cullen nodded, and Josephine turned back to her conversation as if they were never there. Cassandra eased out of the room turning to head back to the OR when Cullen grabbed her arm. 

“Tell me the truth,” he said, eyes earnest and worried. “What happened?”

Cassandra took a deep breath and jerked her head towards the OR. Cullen followed. “Trev took a bullet to the head,” she said. Her words barely audible above her footsteps. 

He stood stock still, fingers slipping from Cassandra’s arms. “What?” 

If the situation wasn’t dire, she might have been tempted to find amusement at the way his mouth went slack, disbelief written all over his face. 

“Shot?”

Cassandra’s jaw tightened. 

“In the head?”

She exhaled explosively. Red flashed across her vision again. Trev went slack in her arms. Blood dribbling from her lips, her whimpers as the medic shoved a tube into her chest. Cassandra grunted, squeezing the bridge of her nose, wishing she could scrub the images from her eyes. 

“Yes/” Her voice was curt. “She was responding to commands earlier. I think that’s a good sign.”

“Maker,” Cullen gasped, sinking down onto the bench facing the OR. He buried his face into his hands. They were shaking as he whispered, “Maker” over and over into them. 

Hers were no better, she was just better at hiding. Muscles along her arms corded tight. A stillness came over them as they waited. Only their off-sync inhales and exhales were audible as their thoughts shouted their unspoken fear and anxiety. Faint noise of wheels rolling along the corridor broke the tension. Cullen raised his head and looked while Cassandra hurried forward to intercept. 

She spotted Robinson and the others flanking Trev. Her safety was well in hand. Trev lay motionless on the gurney. A mask covering her nose and mouth and a blanket covering her up to her chin, but there was nothing they could do to hide the blood soaked bandages around her head. Cassandra’s chest clenched so tight, she couldn’t breathe. 

“Inquisitor,” Cullen pushed past Cassandra to make it to Trev’s side but the doctor pushed him away. 

“Time is of the essence,” he said. “Let me brief you while they prep her for surgery.”

Cullen nodded curtly, pulling his arms back to his side, stiffening his spine. 

Trev’s eyes were trained on them. She was still conscious. That fact brought Cassandra much comfort. _Trev will be fine. Head wounds bleed a lot, it might not be as serious as I’ve feared._ Trev smiled, a small lopsided one, to reassure them before the gurney was pushed into the OR. 

“What did her scans show?” Cassandra asked, eyeing the doctor. She recognised him from earlier. 

Cullen stepped up next to her, hemming the doctor in, eager for answers too. 

“The bullet entered the Inquisitor’s frontal bone and exited the pariental bone in a nearly straight path.”

“What does that mean, doctor…” Cullen asked. 

“Peters, call me Peters,” the doctor replied. 

“Speak plainly, Peters,” Cassandra snapped, her attention snagged by the moan coming from inside the OR as the nurses shifted Trev from the gurney to the operating table. The voices inside were audible via a speaker situated just above them. 

Peters straightened at the bite of her words. “Having a bullet through your head is never good. My concern here is the inevitable swelling of the Inquisitor’s brain. I’m going to go in to remove the bone fragments and assess the situation. We may have to do a decompressive craniectomy.”

Cassandra didn’t understand the terms, but she could guess what was required. One of the nurses was speaking to Trev as they strapped her arms down onto the arm rests, pulling her arms perpendicular to her body. The clear mask was replaced with a black one. 

“Once we have successfully complete that, a second team will come in to repair her broken ribs,” Peters continued. 

“What are her chances?” Cullen asked, his voice strained as he tried to hold it together. 

The silence stretched as the doctor considered. Cassandra appreciated that he wasn’t going to sugar coat his answers. She preferred realistic estimates though she remained hopeful. The blanket over Trev was pulled away. It was then she realised Trev’s uniform had been removed as the nurses attached electrodes to her chest. Sharp needles inserted into Trev’s hands while they started unwinding the bandages from Trev’s head. 

She saw it now. The blackened hole was the entry point. The bullet had entered just above Trev’s left eyebrow. Deep red blood still oozed from the wound. The skin there had peeled back revealing a tiny bit of white underneath. She was looking at Trev’s skull. Her heart lurched sideways painfully with that realisation.

Cassandra was no stranger to combat. She had seen death first hand, she had dealt death to enemies, but this was different. Her fists clenched tighter. She had to look away, the sight was too much. A buzz filled the air as the nurses started shaving Trev’s head in preparation for what was to come. 

“What are her chances?” Cassandra repeated, her voice rough. 

“The Inquisitor is a relatively fit and healthy,” Peters started. 

“But?” she prompted, hearing the hesitation. 

“But a gunshot wound to the head is not something I’d just stitch up and send her on her way. I can’t even begin to think how her special condition would affect the surgery.”

“You mean her immunity to the Rifts?” Cullen asked. 

Peters nodded. He took a deep breath and his eyes darted between Cullen and herself. “All I can promise is to do my best. The rest is in the Maker’s hands. Now if you’d excuse me. I should scrub in.”

With that he disappeared into the OR, leaving Cassandra and Cullen staring at each other. The anesthesiologist arrived. She held a syringe filled with a white liquid. “Are you ready?” she asked Trev. 

Trev moved her newly shone head slightly. The wound looked uglier against the fairer skin of her scalp. Cullen whispered prayers started up again. Even as Cassandra took heart in them, guilt rode heavy against her chest. 

The anaesthesiologist emptied the the contents of the syringe into the IV on Trev’s hand. Within seconds, Trev’s eyes fluttered shut, and she went limp. The anaesthesiologist looked up, knowing she had an audience. She nodded once at Cassandra. “Intubating,” she said. “Proceed to catheterise the patient.”

The prep nurses jumped into action. The thin sheet was whipped away. Trev lay naked under it. Darkened bruises had formed across her bronzed skin. Cullen choked and turned his back to the clear panel. Cassandra torn between forcing herself to watch and wishing she could escape, but this was pain she had wrought. The nurses pushed Trev’s legs apart exposing her most private of areas before applying antiseptic over it. A long yellow tube was inserted into Trev’s urethra with expert hands. It was over before Cassandra realised it and Trev’s legs were straightened and covered, protecting what remained of her modesty. 

The anaesthesiologist shifted Trev’s head, tilting it up and pushing a firm finger down against her lower jaw. Another nurse handed her a large curved metal equipment. Cassandra swallowed, she knew where that was going. It entered Trev’s mouth, her jaw extending painfully wide. Cassandra couldn’t help but wince in sympathy. A long tube followed quickly before the metal piece was removed. Tape secured the breathing tube against Trev’s face with more tape sealing her eyes shut. 

“Is it done?” Cullen asked. 

“Not quite.”

More pieces of equipment were being set up. They surrounded Trev like a cage. Skull clamps bit down into Trev’s already horribly injured skull, pinning in place. The door inside the OR opened and a man entered. It was Peters. He took his place at Trev’s head. “Let’s begin.”

“It’s done,” Cassandra whispered, but that was a lie. In fact this was merely the start.

Cullen’s hiss of surprise when he turned back was everything Cassandra felt. He braced himself against the railing just under the window panel. It squeaked as his skin rubbed against the unyielding metal. “Is that really the Inquisitor?”

Cassandra nodded. There was nothing recognisable about the body lying there on the slab, being cut open and having drugs pumped into. Trev was half buried under blue drapes, surrounded by people in scrubs and machines that loomed, bathed under a harsh light. 

“I…” Cullen started and his voice trailed off. His hand tugging at his golden hair, his eyes swimming with helplessness and grief. “I should let Josephine know.”

Cassandra nodded curtly. “I’ll be here.”

Cullen retreated, No, he escaped. His footsteps faltering but no less harsh in the silence. Cassandra watched his disappearing back before remembering. “Cullen,” her voice rang out in sharp relief to the choking stillness. 

He stiffened. Turning with a question written over his face, his eyebrows rose. 

“There’s a prayer room just next to the one I’ve placed you in,” she said. 

He understood instantly. The tension he carried eased an inch, knowing he could find relief in prayer. Turning on his heels, he left. Cassandra herself maintained her ramrod straight posture as she spoke into her comms, requesting updates from Daniel, her second in commend, and worked out a rotating shift of guards for Trev. 

Trev would need protection for the foreseeable future, and she was clearly inept at this. As a fresh set of security personnel took over from Robinson, Marshall and Reinhard, she settled in for the wait. Refusing the comfort of a hard bench, she only allowed herself to wash off Trev’s blood from her hands and a drink of water. 

Within minutes, she was back at her post. While the others had their back towards the surgery being performed, she watched. She needed to. Plans formed in her mind as the doctors worked. She would offer her deepest apologises to Trev and bear the weight of Trev’s judgement. Then, she’d take herself as far away from Trev and Leliana as possible. Protection, what a joke. She was not meant for this.

This was her penance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	4. Sundered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hour four: Cassandra gave in to her body’s demands for some kind of sustenance. She trudged to the vending machine, leaving the freshly rotated in guards, decked out in tactical gear this time to hold fort. The machine was stocked with packets of peanuts and chocolate bars. Echoes of doctors being paged rang out somewhere below. The rest of the hospital ran as it would everyday out of sight. 
> 
> Stabbing her finger at random, she made a selection and scanned her phone over the terminal to make payment. Bleary eyes stared as the machine hummed. An Almond Joy bar fell from its slot and it got stuck. An irrational anger surged through her veins. With a growl, she slammed her palm against the machine. Once, twice, thrice. Each one punctuated with a frustrated grunt that grew louder. 
> 
> The machine finally yielded her the chocolate bar. Bending to retrieve her hard earned chocolate bar, she held it limply in her hand. How could she eat when just tens of metres away doctors and nurses were fighting to save Trev’s life. The half melted bar folded in her clenched grip. She made the walk back to her post. 
> 
> The relative peace ended as she neared. Alarms blared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whump continues!

Hour four: Cassandra gave in to her body’s demands for some kind of sustenance. She trudged to the vending machine, leaving the freshly rotated in guards, decked out in tactical gear this time to hold fort. The machine was stocked with packets of peanuts and chocolate bars. Echoes of doctors being paged rang out somewhere below. The rest of the hospital ran as it would everyday out of sight. 

Stabbing her finger at random, she made a selection and scanned her phone over the terminal to make payment. Bleary eyes stared as the machine hummed. An Almond Joy bar fell from its slot and it got stuck. An irrational anger surged through her veins. With a growl, she slammed her palm against the machine. Once, twice, thrice. Each one punctuated with a frustrated grunt that grew louder. 

The machine finally yielded her the chocolate bar. Bending to retrieve her hard earned chocolate bar, she held it limply in her hand. How could she eat when just tens of metres away doctors and nurses were fighting to save Trev’s life. The half melted bar folded in her clenched grip. She made the walk back to her post. 

The relative peace ended as she neared. Alarms blared. 

Cassandra ran, hurrying towards the glass panel. The tension she held before had increased ten fold, tightening her muscles all across her shoulders and up her neck. Her breath was locked in her chest as she watched. 

Peters stood from his position at Trev’s head, the surgery looked incomplete. The nurses bustled about, readying a new piece of equipment. Most telling of all was the whine, sharp and long. It filled the space between sharp tension and hurried motions, it filled Cassandra’s ears, piercing into her mind. 

Trev was flatlining. 

A lump formed in her throat. No amount of swallowing could budge it. Time ceased to exist. The drapes that covered Trev was ripped away. Harsh lights threw across her ashen face, a part of her skull sawed off, revealing the fragile grey matter inside. A pair of blood stained gloves pushed down against Trev’s chest, bowing it down. Her broken ribs deformed under the pressure. The hose attached to the tube pumping air into her lungs was disconnected and connected to a bag. Hands depressed it and allowed it to inflate, pushing air into Trev’s airways. 

“Maker, please,” Cassandra whispered. “Don’t take this child of yours away.”

Grunts of exertions overlaid the endless cry from the heart rate monitor. Back and forth it went, thirty presses against Trev’s chest to two breaths from the bag. The doctor barked for higher and higher doses of drugs to be injected into Trev’s IV. 

“Trev, you’re stronger than this. You survived the Rift, you survived everything the world threw at you,” she pleaded. “This is nothing.”

The whine cut off abruptly. An uneven rhythm took over. The doctor stepped back as another applied gel pads to Trev’s chest. 

“Charging.” Everyone stepped back. A horribly long instant later, someone called out, “Clear.”

“Clear,” the doctor confirmed. 

Trev jerked, her chest lifting from the table she laid on before falling back down again. The heart rate monitor beeped angrily, the rhythm was deemed unsatisfactory. 

“Charging.”

“Clear.”

Another jerk. Cassandra’s heart clenched so hard it felt like she was being shocked instead. She pleaded unashamedly, begging her to hang on. Words tumbled from her lips in a whispered frenzy. She was never prone to public displays of emotions but here and now, with Trev’s life hanging in the balance, she couldn’t hold it back. 

“Clear!”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she dashed them away angrily. Her fingers tried to dig into the smooth glass panel to no avail. Her breath grew ragged as she fought to maintain her stoic facade, remembering she wasn’t alone.

An audible sigh came through the speakers. Cassandra stiffened, squinting trying to make out any sign of what had happened through the crowd that surrounded Trev. All she could see was one of Trev’s hand strapped down on the arm rest. Pale, limp, lines and tubes trailing from it. Most prominently, a large gauge needle stabbed the back of it. 

Cassandra bit against on her fist, whispering Trev’s name into it. If she could hold onto Trev’s name, she could tie Trev’s soul to her body. Teeth sinking into flesh, she tasted iron.

The monitors stopped wailing. The tension was so thick it felt like a physical barrier as Cassandra waited. A relieved sigh rippled across the OR. “Thank the Maker,” one of the nurses said. 

Just like that Cassandra could breathe again. Glancing at her closed fist, she realised she her teeth broken skin, and she was bleeding. Wiping it hastily against the front of her uniform, she stared into the OR. The dance of life and death begin anew. The hose was reattached to Trev’s mouth, the drapes replaced, and the defibrillator returned to where it came from. 

“Get the second team scrubbed in,” one of the doctors barked. “They have to go in on her chest now.”

 _Oh. Her ribs are broken._

Cassandra took a half step back, torn between relief and anguish. Trev had never been a good patient. She had witness it herself many times. Both of them had taken their fair share of injuries and wounds after years of standing on the frontlines together. Trev came through them well enough, albeit with much cursing and swearing directed at their medical team. She didn’t take well to enforced inactivity. Usually it fell on Cassandra to rein Trev in and vice versa when she was the one hurt. 

This time… This time wouldn’t be like the others. This was no bullet graze, no hairline fracture, no bruise or minor concussion that could be healed given enough time and rest. This was serious. A clink rang out. a bone fragment was dropped into a dish. Peters pulled the flap of scalp back over Trev’s exposed brain. Painstakingly, stitch by stitch, he closed the horrendous wound back up again. This might be the sundering of their friendship, the special bond they shared, but she would see that Trev would never want for anything during her recovery. After this catastrophic failure of hers, Trev would never want to see her face again. She would do everything in her power to see that Trev would have all the support she needed for her recovery.

* * *

Hour Nine: Cassandra rapped her knuckles against the door, expecting no response. The doctors were almost done, Cullen and Josephine would want to be there for the briefing. She checked her phone, it was suspiciously silent the entire time. Daniel could handle things, but she had expected periodic reports. Leliana must have had a hand in this. 21:00 blinked back at her when she glanced at her watch. The entire day had gone sideways, and Cassandra could feel weariness seeping into her bones. 

The door swung open, and Cullen stared back. He looked like he had aged ten years in the span of nine hours. They all had. Josephine looked up from her seat at the desk, her hand was still clutching her phone like it was a lifeline. If it wasn’t for the boxes of half eaten food, it felt like she had never moved at all. Shadows darkened her brow, framed by dark locks of hair falling over her face. 

“The surgery is done,” Cassandra said.

The news was met with relief and worry in equal measure. “How is she?” Josephine asked, raising from the table. 

Cullen had ventured out to check in from time to time in the nine hours, but Josephine had been locked away in here. Maybe in part her reluctance to see Trev being cut open, maybe she was forced to throw herself into dealing with the serious repercussions of the assassination attempt. As more time passed from the closing of the initial Rift, it seemed that people’s memories faded just as quickly as the receding tide. The Inquisition’s enemies weren’t all arms bearing thugs, they came in many subtle forms too. Josephine was their first line of defence. 

“Peters will brief us in Leliana’s office.”

Josephine stood and spoke into her phone. “Sera, thank you. Just spread the word.” A pause, she nodded, listening to the other end of the line as she moved towards the door. “The surgery is done. I’ll — Okay.” 

Cassandra turned on her heels and led the way. The only communication she had from Daniel was to inform her that Leliana had returned to her office. That was where the briefing would take place. As she stepped out, the telltale sound of wheels rumbling over the floor came. She stopped, Cullen and Josephine flanked her. They stared as the nurses pushed Trev along the corridor. It was only a fleeting glance, but it was enough.

Josephine gasped, her hand pressed against her mouth as she leaned against Cullen. Cullen wrapped his arm around his colleague. “Trevelyan is fine. She will be fine,” he whispered. “The Maker watches over her.”

One of the nurses hung back. “We’re taking her to the ICU. You can visit individually after the briefing.”

“Thank you, thank you for taking care of her,” Josephine said. Cullen’s thanks joined hers, but all Cassandra managed was a curt nod. Her eyes were trained on Trev’s disappearing view. Her leg twitched with an overwhelming urge to follow, after hours of watching Trev on the table, she felt like she needed to keep Trev in her sight at all times. 

Cassandra took a deep breath, forcing that her emotions aside. She was the last thing Trev needed. All she had to do was to see this last bit through, and she would tender her resignation. Nobody needed a bodyguard that failed twice. 

* * *

The guards standing outside Leliana’s door were new. Cassandra would have never stood for that before. Leliana had a handpicked security detail. Who were these two? She made a note to speak to Daniel after about it. The guard radioed in before rapping her knuckles on the door. Without waiting for a response, the guard opened it. Cassandra stepped aside, allowing Josephine and Cullen to enter before herself. 

Once the door was closed behind her, it felt like she had stepped back in time. It was Skyhold, Thedas was in danger of tearing itself apart. Orlais stood on the brink of a civil war. Ferelden was overrun by outlaws and looters. Rifts littered the landscape, destroying towns and cities with equal ease. Trev stood at the helm of their ragtag militia born out of sheer need. 

Her eyes darted to the person standing at the desk that dominated the room, half expecting to see Trev bracing herself against it. Her mismatched eyes glaring at the proper paper map that was unfurled across the desk. A computer screen was too small for all of them to crowd around. Cullen used staples, paper weights and all manner of office stationary to mark out hot spots where Rifts were rumoured to be. Sera would perched on top of the worn out sofa, scrolling through her phone, leaning against Bull who took up more than half the space on said sofa, picking his teeth with the point of a knife. Varric would hover close taking notes as the meeting went. Blackwall leaned against the far wall, mumbling remarks that never made it through the thickness of his beard. Solas took the opposite wall, his keen eyes trained on Trev. Vivienne had her arms folded across her chest, a furrow folded across her flawless brow. Dorian was munching on almonds that always seemed to be stocked in the room. Cole accepting each and every almond Dorian handed to him. Leliana would lean against the wall with her hood up. Josephine would be busy on her tablet, trying work out a way that didn’t require the Inquisitor to head down herself. 

And she herself would be standing right next to Trev, arguing for or against Trev’s suggestions, weighing the pros and cons of each decision that laid before Trev. They would stand shoulder to shoulder in all things. It didn’t matter if in combat or in a meeting as they discussed their next move. 

Cassandra shook her head and rid herself of the image. Trev wasn’t here. She was lying in the ICU. The urge to just head back to make sure Trev was fine was overwhelming. Taking a deep breath, she mastered herself. She was a professional, she knew how to compartmentalise. Her job wasn’t done yet. 

“All right, that’s everyone Peters,” Leliana said, gesturing for Josephine and Cullen to sit. Cassandra remained on her feet. She folded her arms across her chest and held her breath. The former members of the Inquisition were all assembled. Nobody had left for their accommodations despite the late hour. There were clear signs of them being in the room for hours. Food wrappers littered the table, cans of soda, no doubt Sera’s, and even a bottle of whiskey and multiple glasses emptied stood on the table. After all was said and done, they were all Trev’s people. 

Peters was still dressed in his scrubs, having taken the time only to put on his doctor’s coat. His face was lined, weariness poured from his stance. “The surgery has been successful in removing the debris left behind by the bullet. Her broken ribs and punctured lung have also been repaired.”

A sigh broke out across the room, there were scattered chuckles born from pure relief. Sera hugged a very surprised Cole, but Cassandra’s heart hammered hard against her chest. 

“But.”

She closed her eyes. Everyone else stiffened as one. The word sent a shockwave across the room. “But?” Leliana prompted. 

Peters drew himself to his full height, his hands clasped before him in a practised motion. “But the Inquisitor’s injuries are severe. We have placed her under an induced coma so that her brain will rest and heal. Hopefully once the brain swelling has gone down sufficently, we will be able to bring her back.”

Cassandra exhaled and opened her eyes. This was par for the course, but it still stung to hear.

“Also I want all of you to be mentally prepared. Brain damage is inevitable for injuries of this magnitude.”

“But you just said you’ve fixed her,” Sera pointed out, already belligerent. 

“Come on,” Dorian said, his voice soft and gentle as he put a hand on her shoulder. 

She wrenched her shoulder out of his grip. “You said the surgery is successful.” Her voice grew louder. “This is Inky we’re talking about.”

“Sera,” Cassandra said, her voice low and dangerous. These words were like a knife against her chest. 

“She survived the Scared Ashes, she can survive this.”

“Sera.”

“She protected you,” Sera stabbed a finger at Leliana and Vivienne in turns. “You have to fix her!”

“Sera!” Cassandra barked, her voice loud in the small enclosed space. “Enough!”

The younger woman glared with fury at all of them furiously. Tears stood unabashedly in her eyes. “This is Inky.” With a growl, she pushed past everyone and left. 

Blackwall sighed. He peeled himself off the wall and followed. His voice ringing outside as he called for her. Cassandra squeezed the bridge of her nose. Guilt pressed hard against her throat, attempting to choke her. 

“Please go on, Peters,”Leliana prompted

Peters scrubbed his face with his hands. “The Inquisitor isn’t out of the woods yet. We will continue monitoring her in the ICU. Just because surgery is successful, it doesn’t ensure recovery. Infection may set in, and there can be all manner of complications. And even after all that, she will require extensive rehabilitation and care.”

Silence met his words. “Does anyone have any questions?” Leliana asked, for some reason her eyes were pinned on Cassandra’s. 

“When can we see her?” Vivienne asked. 

“I won’t advise you to be visiting her anytime soon. We are trying to minimise her chance of infection—”

“But her security,” Cassandra injected, very aware that Trev might have been the target of the sniper’s bullet all along. 

Peters held his hands up. “I can only advise as a doctor.”

Vivienne sagged back against the chair, even she was losing her ramrod straight posture. The others had varying degrees of disappointment on their faces. Cole wandered through the room, mumbling, “Hurt, worry, anxious. A tight ball of questions with no answers.” He wove his way between everyone, squeezing a shoulder here, brushing against an arm there. Everyone he touched smiled, even if it was a weak watery one. It was just Cole’s way of providing comfort. Even Peters wasn’t spared. 

Cole stopped in front of Cassandra. She shrank back when he reached towards her. His hand hesitated, hovering in mid-air between them. A question stood in his eyes, she nodded. Cole held her hand, doing his best to pry her tightly clenched fist loose. It was only then she realised her nails had been cutting into her palm. 

“Wait, there is only the waiting,” he whispered as they stood in this awkward stiff posture. “How long must I wait? Please let her be okay.”

Cassandra jerked her hand from his grip and took a step back. The way Cole had always been able to reach to her inner most thoughts unnerved her. She had trouble untangling the ever expanding knot of guilt, she didn’t need Cole to go poking where he wasn’t welcome. He ducked his head and let himself out of the room without closing the door.

Leliana cleared her throat as Cassandra went to close the door. “Thank you doctor. I’d expect you to keep me updated on the Inquisitor’s condition.”

“Yes, Divine Victoria.”

As soon as the door shut a second time, Bull coughed. “Hire the Chargers.”

Leliana looked at him. She didn’t speak, allowing the silence to grow. “Two can play at this game, but this is Trevelyan we’re talking about,” he snorted. “Hire me. I’ll helm the investigation. I’m an independent third party you trust…”

Leliana still didn’t speak. 

“I hope,” Bull finished. 

“No, we should be the ones investigating. This belongs to the Inquisition. It’s the Inquisitor that was shot,” Cullen pointed out. 

“This may be part of a wider conspiracy,” Vivienne pointed out. 

Voices raged on. Dorian agreed with Vivienne, his position with the Tevinter’s government afforded him a different point of view. Bull’s rose in agreement with Cullen’s. Josephine was trying to calm everyone while Varric was busy taking notes. The scene twisted the knot in Cassandra’s chest ever tighter. Trev was down, and the bonds between them all was sundering before her eyes. 

Leliana slammed her palms down against the desk with a solid smack. Everyone stiffened. It wasn’t the Inquisition’s Spymaster that stood there, but Divine Victoria. She rounded the table to stand before them. Her gaze was eagle sharp as she glared. Cassandra drew herself straight. 

“You,” Leliana said, looking at Vivienne, “me, Cassandra and Trevelyan are all on the stage.”

Vivienne nodded, confirming this. 

“Anyone of us can be the target. The Chantry do not have the resources to investigate.”

“I can get the Chevaliers on this,” Vivienne pointed out. 

“Remember the task force that made up the security for this event is split equally between the Chantry _and_ Orlais. We had people swept the building the sniper was in,” she pointed out. “How sure are you that this wasn’t an inside job?”

The Prime Minister of Orlais bristled, chin jerking up. “What are you implying?”

Leliana sighed. “Cast pride aside. This is more than our lives at stake. Trevelyan took the bullet for us. We owe it to her to investigate this properly.”

The muscles against Vivienne’s jaw flexed but she said, “For Trevelyan.”

Just like that it was decided. Even Cullen couldn’t find a reason to say no. The Chargers would investigate, Blackwall would come on board to bolster the Chantry’s security team. Cassandra nodded with approval at the additions. Leliana would need people she could trust once she stepped aside. 

Josephine cleared her throat. “Much as I would like to stay and care for Trevelyan as she recovers, but the Inquisition’s work still continues with or without her.” Cullen stood at her shoulder. He looked pale and tired where Josephine seemed to strengthen in the face of adversity after the initial shock had worn off. Her voice resolute as she made her decisions known. “Cullen will return to Skyhold. I will stay for as long as I can, Leliana can I trouble you for some supplies and an office?”

“Of course, I’ll let my assistant know.”

Josephine bowed. “It’s late. We all have a lot of work to do tomorrow. I will take my leave.” She swept out, with Cullen following close behind, but before she crossed the threshold, she stopped beside Cassandra. “Thank you for watching over her.”

Cassandra exhaled. Josephine’s words stung like darts against her skin. “Trev is my friend too,” she replied.

The door latched behind Cullen and Josephine. The others looked at each other. Everyone were at a loss. They had news of Trev but yet it felt inconclusive. She was alive, but her condition remained critical. They had a goal, but no real means to reach it. Threads were all frayed, and there was nobody to pull them together. Trev had always been that person. 

Dorian rose to his feet, offering his arm to Vivienne. “May I escort you back to your rooms?”

Vivienne’s eyes widened a fraction and took the offered arm as if it had been her intention all along. “Thank you, Councillor.” Turning to Leliana, the Prime Minister of Orlais said, “I think I speak for all of us, even those not present, we’d all appreciate it if we could be kept up to date about Trevelyan’s condition.”

There were nods all around. “Of course, I’ll make sure of that,” Leliana replied.

One by one, they filed out of the room. Cassandra sighed, knowing what her resignation would do to Daniel, but he was more than capable to handle the job. 

The room felt hollowed out when Cassandra and Leliana were all that was left inside. A glance at her watch confirmed the time. It was past midnight. The way her eyes stung reminded her of her body’s demand for rest. Leliana slumped onto the sofa recently occupied Bull. This wasn’t the Divine, this was a woman bearing an immense burden. 

“I have—” 

“I need to—” 

Leliana’s words clashed with Cassandra’s. She pulled the white Chantry hat off and smoothed her hair back. Gesturing with the floppy hat, Leliana indicated that Cassandra should speak. Cassandra drew herself up and stood at attention before the Divine. Arms clasped tight behind her back. It made Leliana sit up, eyes narrowing. 

“Divine Victoria, I hereby tender my resignation. I’ve grossly failed my duties. The assassination attempt should not have occured. I am sorry for the abruptness of my resignation, but I believe it is best that I take responsibility for my inability.”

“Are you quite done?” Leliane interjected. 

“Divine Victoria, I—”

Leliana’s sigh was an explosive exhalation of air out through her mouth. “Cassandra, we have been through this. We’re alone, just call me Leliana.”

“But…”

“Just sit the fuck down, I don’t want to get a crick in my neck.”

Cassandra didn’t move, taken aback by Leliana’s breach of protocol. Leliana had a colourful past before joining the Chantry. In all her years of working with Leliana, Cassandra had never heard her curse. Seeing the break in form was shocking but it had already been a day of upheaval, this was by far the smallest of them all. 

“I’m tired, hungry and pissed off. Just sit down, Cassandra. Please.”

Cassandra sank down next to Leliana, taking care to keep a bit of space between them. The Divine scratched at her forehead. The silence stretched. Cassandra waited and waited and waited. Leliana did not acknowledge her resignation, but she had not rejected it either. She pulled her outer vestment off her shoulders. Piece by piece, she folded and put them away carefully on the coffee table. She did not speak. 

“Is that a no?” Cassandra ventured when the silence grew unbearable. 

“You’re catching on.”

“But—”

Leliana turned and look at Cassandra. Her eyes bored into Cassandra’s, but the intensity of Cassandra’s gaze was no less fiery. “It’s my turn to speak, you had your chance,” Leliana pointed out. 

Cassandra pressed her lips thin and nodded curtly. The stubborn set of her jaw remained. 

“You are my Right Hand. That is more than simply being my bodyguard. You are my closed fist. I send you forth to act on my behalf. Yes, security is part of your duty, but nobody could have expected something like that. I’ve read the reports. I can’t see how this is your fault.”

Words crowded against Cassandra’s lips, but Leliana’s hand stopped her. 

“And I am entrusting Trevelyan’s security to you.”

Cassandra would wait no longer. “No, you can’t do this. I cannot be in charge of Trevelyan’s security. She took the bullet for me.”

“Maybe so, but you would have taken a bullet for me, for her, for anyone of us.”

“It’s not the same, and you know it,” Cassandra snapped, her frustration getting the better of her. 

“But it is still true,” Leliana snapped, her eyes sparking. “I’m not accepting your resignation. Remember your vows, Seeker.”

Cassandra stiffened as if slapped, her hands curled into fists on her thighs. 

Leliana deflated, bracing one elbow against the arm rest, she leaned her forehead against her hand. “Atone if you think you have wronged, seek forgiveness from those you think you have wronged. Resigning isn’t the road to salvation, redeem yourself in the eyes of the Maker through service.”

She knew what Leliana was doing. The former Left Hand of the Divine was a master manipulator. Leliana knew which buttons to push to get the result she wanted and in this case, Cassandra was being proded, but her words rang true. Running away wasn’t her style, but she couldn’t see how Trev would forgive her, would ever want her around. 

“But…”

“Trevelyan is vulnerable, more so than before,” Leliana reminded. “I believe she will pull through, she is too stubborn for anything else,” — Cassandra snorted in agreement. — “Her recovery leaves her exposed and she would need help during that time. That brings me to what I wanted to tell you.”

Fine lines were etched into Leliana’s fair skin. Devoid of the trappings of her position, Leliana was just a woman that stood at the helm of a religion that spanned the globe, and she was exhausted. Rubbing her eyes, Leliana shifted so that she could face Cassandra properly. “Trevelyan still had you listed as her health proxy.”

Blood drained from Cassandra’s face. “No. She did not get it changed?”

When the militia was finding its feet, the media had taken to calling Trevelyan the Inquisitor, nothing was quite solid. Trevelyan had gotten herself a concussion after one particular mission out in the Hinterlands. She had been attacked by a bear of all things. The scare prompted the advisors to make sure she named a health proxy. Cassandra was saddled with the job because of the close working relationship they have had. 

“Now you’ll be even more invested in keeping me alive,” Trev had quipped then. 

It was never something that was invoked during her time with the Inquisition so it had completely slipped her mind. Her fingers felt tingly, and she was light headed. “What does this mean?”

“Trevelyan is now in a coma, you’d have to make all medical decisions on her behalf. You can’t do it if you are not around.”

Cassandra’s chest hurt, and she let the breath she was holding out. It didn’t ease the tension crawling up her neck. This was not welcome news. It wasn’t exactly bad news but it was awkward. “Does she have a signed DNR or anything of that sort? A living will maybe? Something?”

Leliana shook her head. “I did not have time to find out, but as her health proxy, these are good things to check. You are her friend, she trusted you enough to give you power over these matters. Believe in that, Cassandra. Trevelyan will need you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	5. Friends Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra was tired, the kind where her body was still moving, but it was on auto-pilot. Her mind ran base level functions but nothing else. She was numb. Her ramrod straight posture disappeared after she escorted Leliana back to her quarters. Leliana’s admonishments about getting some rest, letting the others take care of Trevelyan tonight brushed by her ears, and never registered in her mind. She bowed and muttered her apologies again, not seeing her friend’s pained gaze upon her back. 
> 
> As bone weary Cassandra was, there was one overriding priority — Trev. She was going to check in on Trev, and she’d crash at the barracks, that was what she told herself. This was her duty as Trev’s health proxy and bodyguard. Still, she had to resist the urge to jog to the ICU, she settled for a brisk walk. 
> 
> Cassandra checked her mobile. Conti, the guard in charge of the current shift had texted her the location. It was two levels above the OR. Conti was there to meet her. 
> 
> “Commander,” Conti greeted. She was not decked out in tactical gear now that the danger was over. Dressed in a set of discrete hoodie and sweatpants, she walked in lock step next to Cassandra. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading!! I'm super happy that anyone is even interested about this pairing. I hope you hang on for the ride we have more angst incoming.

Cassandra was tired, the kind where her body was still moving, but it was on auto-pilot. Her mind ran base level functions but nothing else. She was numb. Her ramrod straight posture disappeared after she escorted Leliana back to her quarters. Leliana’s admonishments about getting some rest, letting the others take care of Trevelyan tonight brushed by her ears, and never registered in her mind. She bowed and muttered her apologies again, not seeing her friend’s pained gaze upon her back. 

As bone weary Cassandra was, there was one overriding priority — Trev. She was going to check in on Trev, and she’d crash at the barracks, that was what she told herself. This was her duty as Trev’s health proxy and bodyguard. Still, she had to resist the urge to jog to the ICU, she settled for a brisk walk. 

Cassandra checked her mobile. Conti, the guard in charge of the current shift had texted her the location. It was two levels above the OR. Conti was there to meet her. 

“Commander,” Conti greeted. She was not decked out in tactical gear now that the danger was over. Dressed in a set of discrete hoodie and sweatpants, she walked in lock step next to Cassandra. 

“Report.”

“Everything is quiet. I’ve drawn up a roster, It just needs your approval.”

Cassandra glanced at it. The names and times were blurring together. “I’m giving it provisional approval,” she said. “I’ll look over it and make any changes if it is required.”

Conti nodded. “Here, let me bring you to the Inquisitor, but I have to warn you about the nurse.”

To say it was an ICU wasn’t quite accurate. It was a private hospital suite with an adjoining room where a nurse was stationed at, monitoring Trev’s vitals at all times. When Cassandra arrived, she was met with a hand to her face. She frowned. Conti whispered, “This is what I meant.”

The nurse had a frown to match Cassandra’s. “I’ve already told you,” the nurse said, her eyes trained just past Cassandra’s shoulder to look at Conti. “Guards can remain outside. This is a hospital, the danger comes from outside.”

“Yes but what if someone infiltrates your ranks?”

The nurse snorted and rolled her eyes, her heavy set body shifted from one leg to another. “Ranks. I am a nurse, we have no ranks here. We have all been vetted before we’re allowed on the Divine’s medical team. If you have a problem, go talk to my boss.”

Cassandra cleared her throat. “Conti, it’s fine. Just keep to your post. Make sure the level itself is sealed, the Inquisitor’s door just needs one person. Keep logs of all visitors, but otherwise it’s fine.”

Conti narrowed her eyes and turned on her heels. The nurse put her hands on her hips and regarded Cassandra with a rake of her eyes going from head down to toes and back up again. “I assume you’re Pentaghast?”

“Yes.”

The nurse heaved a sigh. “My name is Leven, Jules Leven. I am the head nurse in charge of Lexington’s care.”

Cassandra grimaced. 

Leven’s eyes widened. “Is there a problem?”

“She doesn’t like people calling her by her first name.”

Leven took a deep breath. “That’s good to know when I speak to her then. What does she prefers then?” She took a step back and gestured for Cassandra to follow. 

“Trevelyan, she prefers Trevelyan,” she replied, keeping the more intimate ‘Trev’ close to her chest. It felt private, and she wasn’t quite ready to relinquish that name to a total stranger. 

Cassandra stepped in, and it felt like another world. It wasn’t quiet inside, in fact it was downright noisy. Beeps, steady and regular, came from the heart rate monitor. Another nurse shuffling about checking on Trev. A third murmured on the phone, speaking in low tones in the adjoining room. What dominated the soundscape was the hiss-click from the ventilator breathing for Trev. 

She swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. 

“It’s hard to see a loved one like this, but I’ve gotten word that you’re her medical proxy as well as her personal bodyguard for the duration of her recovery.”

Cassandra couldn’t speak, she just nodded. Her eyes traced the curve of the tube protruding from Trev’s mouth, it was secured to her face via a tube holder and a strap around her face. Her head and face was swollen and wrapped completely in heavy white bandages. Trev wasn’t quite dressed, a thin medical gown was draped over her body, protecting her modesty by covering her chest. A tube, visible just under her collarbone, had a clear seal covered the end attached to Trev’s chest while the rest trailed over her shoulder and down the pillow. 

“What’s that?” Cassandra asked. 

Leven shifted and followed her gaze. “Oh that’s a central line, it allows us to monitor her central venous pressure. We have another catheter at her groin monitoring her arterial blood pressure.” She gestured at a tube that snaked out from the side of Trev’s blankets. 

Cassandra inhaled sharply. What other tubes and needles were embedded in Trev’s body she couldn’t see?

“Are you all right? Should I not continue?”

Cassandra shook her head. “Go on.” She pointed at the electrodes peeking out from the thin medical gown. “Are those monitoring her heart beat?”

“Yes, they tell us her heart rhythm.”

“What else?”

Leven narrowed her eyes at Cassandra. She fought to stay standing on her feet, but fatigue was getting to her. Like Leliana, it seemed nothing got past Leven either. 

“Just the usual, temperature, urine output and a whole host of other things,” Leven continued, not taking her eyes away from Cassandra. The nurse sighed and pressed a hand against Cassandra’s shoulder, pushing her into a chair. “You’re dead on your feet. I’d ask you to head home, but I don’t think you’re able to do that. Rest. I’ll check in on you later.”

Cassandra stared dumbfounded as Leven left, signalling to her colleague as well. The door to the adjoining room clicked shut. The chair was positioned an arm’s length away from the bed. Somewhere deep inside her chest, she ached for a friend she had failed. Her hand twitched towards Trev, but she stopped and pulled it back to her chest. She couldn’t, not when there was so many tubes and monitors snaking up and down Trev. Each one corresponded to a dizzying array of machines and monitors that stood like sentinels over her sleeping form. There were no doubt drugs to keep her in a coma, drugs to keep her pain at bay, locking her body and mind down in a sleep so deep nothing could reach her. 

Cassandra took a shuddering breath and leaned back. She glanced at Conti’s schedule, they had left her out of the entire rotation, but she was still Trev’s guard. She would work out what that meant tomorrow. Her eyes flicked to the top of her phone as she dismissed the document from her screen. It was 3am. It was already tomorrow. Leven was right, she wasn’t going to make it back to the barracks. Fatigue had finally conquered her indomitable will. “Trev, you don’t mind me sharing the room with you right?”

There was no answer, just the constant beeping and hiss-click sounds. They were oddly reassuring. Nothing screamed, there was no sharp whine that filled her ears. Trev was alive. 

_Beep, beep, beep._

Inch by inch, Cassandra’s eyelids sagged shut. 

_Beep, beep, beep._

Her eyes trained in the vague direction of Trev’s face, half hidden machines and tubes. 

_Beep, beep, beep._

“I’m sorry, Trev.” The words escaped her lips as exhaustion dragged her down into a restless sleep. 

* * *

A flash of red, a body falling heavily against hers. Blood, blood, so much of it pouring from the wound. No amount of pressure would stop it. Her prayers went unheeded, her pleas fell on deaf ears. A hand cupped her face, brushing away her unshed tears. 

“It has always been you.”

She blinked, reaching out to grab the hand, but it disappeared like smoke. There was no body attached to the arm. 

“Always been you.”

The words echoed over and over again, like a sigh escaping from a pair of unseen lips. 

“No! Trev! Come back!”

She struggled, tearing and pulling at the darkness around her. 

“Always… you…”

Cassandra jolted awake. Her heart hammering against her chest, going a mile a minute. Pressing a hand against her sternum, she frowned at her strange surroundings. The stark white room stared back, bland and sterile as the scent of antiseptic assaulted her nose. 

It all came back like a sledgehammer to her head. Trev, the shooting, blood spraying from her head, the mad rush to get her into surgery, and now her new job as her health proxy. Cassandra’s hands gripped the arm rests, whitening her knuckles. Taking a moment, she re-orientated herself. The room was empty. Someone, probably a nurse, was shuffling around in the other one. A quick check of her mobile revealed its battery had ran flat sometime while she slept. The clock on the wall told her that it was 7am. 

Cassandra levered herself to her feet, her body protesting at spending the night half folded in a chair. Four hours of rest wasn’t great but she was used to functioning on less than optimum rest. There would be a price to pay but for now, she would power through it. 

Trev remained in the same position as ever. It was only then she realised Trev’s eyes were taped shut. How out of it was she that she hadn’t notice this. 

“Maker, I should get a shower and do a little research on this health proxy thing,” Cassandra muttered. 

Trev’s monitor beeped a little louder in response. She stiffened and stared at Trev, half expecting the monitors to start screaming again. The machines continued its playing their odd little symphony made up of beeps, hisses and clicks. Trev remained still. 

_Are there more tubes attached to her now?_

She shook her head and forced herself to move. If given the chance, she would have been rooted to the spot, tallying up all the little wounds littering across Trev’s skin, down to the bullet hole in Trev’s head. Bitter guilt rose, but she packed it away into a tiny little box at the back of her mind. Trev deserved Cassandra’s full attention to her security. The guilt and recriminations could come later. 

A shower, a change of clothes and then breakfast, in that order. She ran through a mental list of things she needed to find out. As her legs took her towards the door, a pair of nurses entered. 

“Morning,” they greeted before turning to Trev and greeting her as well. “Morning, Trevelyan. How are you feeling today?” A screen was dragged along its track, covering Trev’s bed from view. “We have to put in a tube into your nose, so that we can feed you. It won’t be painful, but it might be a little unpleasant. Don’t worry, dear, we will be quick about it. Then you’ll get to have a meal after.”

For a split second, Cassandra had the irrational thought that one of the nurses might be the one who had come to finish the job. One nick of a scalpel against Trev’s neck, one syringe filled with too high a dose into her IV port or simply pulling the tube that was breathing for her and the whine would fill Cassandra’s ears again. Taking a deep breath, she clawed at the thoughts, packing them away as tightly as she could. As the Right Hand, she couldn’t afford to freak out, she couldn’t afford to fall apart. Turning on her heels, she headed out. 

* * *

Cassandra had gotten a quick shower and a meal. Less than an hour later, she was back by Trev’s bedside. In that time, she had decided a couple of things. With Trev’s life still hanging in the balance she didn’t think she would be able to sleep soundly even if she returned to her apartment. The Chantry had a barracks for Leliana’s personal guards. She could easily bunk down with the others. Everything else she needed could be found there. Toiletries were provided, laundry could be done on site, she could just dress herself in the same uniform the others wore. All she needed were her laptop and her gear. 

“Ahhh there you are,” Blackwall called out. He was standing just outside Trev’s room, holding a bag. “Here, my new boss wants me to pass this to you.”

“The Divine?” Cassandra asked, mindful that they were speaking in private. She took the duffle bag, and the weight surprised her. “What’s inside?”

“Your gear,” Blackwall said, also handing her a keycard. 

Her eyebrow rose. 

“The key to your new accommodations,” he replied to her unasked question. “How is she?” his voice grew hush, jerking his impressive beard towards the door. 

She grimaced. “Alive, for now that’s all anyone could ask for.”

He nodded. “Trevelyan will pull through. She’d be asking what the fuck we were all worried about when she wakes, I’m sure of it.”

Cassandra could hear it in her head already. The image made her chuckle. Blackwall squeezed her shoulder. “I should be going.” 

She turned the keycard around in her hand and realised it was meant for one of the rooms on this level. Leliana had indeed planned for every eventuality. The room was tiny, probably meant to serve a place to allow guards to sleep and rest while they were out of rotation if they were assigned to someone treated in the hospital, exactly like now. 

Cassandra didn’t bother to unpack. Instead, she strapped on a vest and buckled on her pistol against her hip. This was still a hospital, walking around in full tactical gear was ill-advised. No need to alarm the staff. Instead of the hoodie and sweatpants look Conti had on the day before, Cassandra put on a dress shirt and a jacket to go with her black pants. Instead of dress shoes, she went with boots, a well worn pair that had served her well since the Inquisition. More importantly, they didn’t pinch. 

Picking up her laptop, she headed back to Trev’s room. It was empty again. Everything was almost as she had left it, except Trev now had a thin tube threaded into one nostril. Cassandra booted up her laptop, she started her research. 

The hours ticked by but she found her attention split in half. Any irregularsound in what had become the reassuring hiss-clink rhythm had her flicking her eyes to look at Trev, waiting for some other sign that something had gone wrong. She held her breath and waited. No nurse burst through the door, no dramatic screaming came from the monitors. Eventually, she was relaxed enough to return to her work. 

By the end of the day, she had set up an information distribution list, or what was basically a chat group that allowed her to inform but not get inundated with questions she had no answers for. She typed the first message. 

> Trevelyan’s condition remains the same. The doctor had came to check on her. The swelling is showing signs of reduction, but they will be monitoring her for infections. I will be relaying more information as it comes in. If you have questions please consolidate them before sending it. I’ll do my best to get answers.

A stab of her finger and the message went out. She sighed. Her stomach growled reminding her she had skipped lunch. Her eyes were gritty, and she found it difficult to keep them open. “Maker, please give me strength,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes. 

The nurses had rotated over. They greeted her as they entered to check on Trev, keeping up a running commentary of the things they were doing. Curiosity made Cassandra sat up, putting her laptop away. “Can she actually hear?”

“Oh yes, she can hear us, sometimes patients even remember things they’ve heard,” Haridin replied. “It’s better to assume she can hear us than not. If it helps to reassure her during what’s a very scary time, why not? If she can’t hear me, then I’ll have talked to myself. No harm done.”

Cassandra nodded. It made sense. Haridin hung a fresh IV onto the pole and hooked it up to Trev’s arm. She frowned as she studied the monitor, she didn’t speak but noted down on the tablet she was holding. 

“Something wrong?”

Haridin brightened and smiled. “It’s nothing to worry about yet. It’s just her temperature is slightly elevated. We’ll keep an eye on it, don’t worry yourself about it now. They don’t typically allow visitors in the ICU. I’m glad you’re cleared to keep your wife company.”

Cassandra stiffened. “She is not my wife.”

Haridin paused what she was doing, a flush ran up her already rosy cheeks. “I’m sorry. I had assumed,” she cleared her throat, “You are Cassandra Pentaghast yes? Ms. Trevelyan’s health proxy?”

“Yes, but what has it got to do with anything?”

“I just thought… the videos I’ve watched and you being her health proxy. I’m sorry, I’ve overstepped. It won’t happen again.” Haridin beat a hasty retreat, no doubt fuelled by Cassandra’s hardened gaze. 

When the door latched, Cassandra realised she was gripping the safety bars that lined the sides of Trev’s bed tightly. She forced her fingers to let go. “Wife,” she snorted. “Trev did you hear that? Wife, she thought I’m your wife.”

Trev didn’t answer. Her machines beeped softly along. Taking a deep breath, she decided to play some music from her laptop. Anything must be better than the monotonous noises from the machine. Trev would be bored out of her mind if this was all she got to hear. Seeking a playlist at random from Spotify, she hit the shuffle button and music played. 

Her eyes strayed to Trev’s wrists, where soft foam cuffs tied them to the safety bars. The ache against her chest rose again. Tentatively she shifted the cuffs, making sure they weren’t chafing against Trev’s skin. Cold, that was Cassandra’s first thought. Trev’s hands were really cold, probably the temperature in the room, but for a moment it felt like Trev was dead and her body was already cold.

Cassandra took hold of Trev’s fingers and rubbed them, trying to work some warmth back into them. She did her best to ignore the chest tube protruding from the blanket, draining blood. Or the others that carried Trev’s wastes from her body. 

_She is alive. She will come through this._

She realised she hadn’t spoke them out loud, and Trev would need to hear them. “You will be fine,” she said. The words fell limp on the floor awkwardly without someone else to acknowledge. “You have to be okay, Trev. You hear me?”

Trev remained as she ever was, still, unmoving, drugged up to her eyeballs to keep her under, but standing next to her bed, holding her hand, Cassandra remembered when Trev had held hers. She confronted her about her intentions that day. 

An entire lifetime stretched between the time Cassandra saw Trev at the airport and today. 

* * *

Skyhold had found its stride by then, Trev had stepped up to become their leader in an official capacity. Funds and resources poured in, volunteers arrived daily, but there was always more work to be done. It was a bright blustery day, the wind whipped the flag, that Sera had designed, and somehow got printed and hoisted up at the highest point of the compound, about. Cassandra had to admit the sword and eye icon over a stylised sunburst image was well done. 

Chill air stung her nostrils as Trev approached. “Cassandra, you’re not training? I’m surprised.”

Cassandra frowned. 

Trev had been always been the friendly sort, chatting with strangers and diplomats with equal apparent ease, but she knew better. Having shadowed Trev for as long as she had, she had caught Trev throwing up in a bathroom more than once. It happened every single time before she had take to a stage to drum up more support for the Inquisition, or head out to mingle with diplomats and politicians in a party. After that first time, Cassandra made sure she was always there with a bottle of water. Their relationship strengthened and grew. Combat taught her that they could practically read each other’s minds. Their individual style of leadership allowed them to compliment each other. But it was the time in between missions and fancy galas that allowed her to get to know Trev the person, not the Inquisitor. They grew close first as comrades then as friends and eventually partners. 

That was until the whispers reached her ears. Rumours in a group this big, concerning a personality as bright and strong as Trev was to be expected, but she was surprised when she heard her name spoken in the same breath as Trev’s, implying that they were more than simply colleagues. It was only then Cassandra watched. 

Trev sought her out more often than anyone else. It went for everything from planning new missions, discussing allocation of resources, training together at the gun range, to simply sharing a meal, discussing about one of Cassandra’s favourite books. Trev even convinced Varric to hand over an initial draft of his latest novel. Was that because Trev was her friend or did she want something more? 

“Is everything all right?” Trev asked, noticing the frown. “Did someone use your favourite lane at the gun range or something? I can get one of the guys to mark that out for you.” She chuckled and reached out to take Cassandra’s hands. 

An irrational anger took hold. A gesture that used to look friendly now was tainted with an agenda. Trev couldn’t take anything seriously, not even when bullets were flying around her. “No,” came her curt response. 

Trev sobered up immediately and dropped her hands. The easy smile she always had slipped away, but it didn’t stopped Trev from coming up next to her. The wind whipped her black hair left and right, her mismatched eyes looked at Cassandra steadily. Concern took over. “Are you sick? I remember you were complaining about body aches and a stuffy nose yesterday? Maybe you need to get yourself check out by the medic?”

“Stop it, Trev,” Cassandra snapped. “Just stop it.”

The faintest of furrows began to crease Trev’s brow before she tidied it away. “What’s wrong?” She braced her hip against the safety railings, leaning against it so that she faced Cassandra. 

Cassandra kept her arms folded across her chest. Taking a deep breath, she tried to force her anger away, knowing that Trev didn’t deserve any of it. She saw it clearly now. Trev must have been pursuing her, looking for a relationship. Cassandra had mistook it for comrade camaraderie, assuming it was Trev’s natural charm. This wasn’t Trev’s fault, it was her blindness that had led to this. She needed to make things clear. 

“We have to talk,” Cassandra said. 

“Clearly.” Trev waited.

“What are we?”

Trev’s eyebrows shot up. Surprise was written all over her face, but Cassandra could read a tension in her shoulders. The relaxed stance from earlier had vanished. 

“Colleagues?” Trev ventured, “And I hope friends.”

Cassandra sighed. Trev wasn’t going to make this easy on her, but she prided herself in being straightforward and direct. Beating around the bush wasn’t the way she got things done. “Yes, that’s what we are. Nothing more.” 

Trev’s gaze hardened, but Cassandra forged on. “I don’t know if you have been showering me with more attention than the others—” Trev opened her mouth ready to protest, but Cassandra raised a palm, forestalling her words. “—because you wanted something I can’t give, but I do not like women that way. Trev, I’m straight, and I can’t love the way you do.”

“The way I love?” The first traces of anger laced through Trev’s words, making them snap and bristle in a way Cassandra hadn’t seen before. “What do you know about the way I love? Why are you putting friendship down like it’s something lesser, something inferior?”

Cassandra sensed she stood on a precipice with Trev one that she couldn’t see the safe path through. Pressure froze the already chill air ice cold. Words poised on her tongue, but she didn’t dare speak them. She had hit a nerve, one she didn’t understand. Her confusion was only going to make this mess of a topic worse. 

The tension snapped as Trev caught herself. Her face immediately flushed a bright red as she ducked her head and averted her eyes. “I’m sorry. I…” She took a deep breath, mastering herself, an old pain flashed within those mismatched eyes of hers and was gone just as quickly, roughly shoved back down. She straightened. “I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable. It won’t happen again.”

Trev turned on her heels, her legs taking her as quickly as she could away from Cassandra. Guilt filled Cassandra’s chest. She meant to clear the air with Trev, not hurt her friend. Did she just ruin one of her best friendships she ever had?

“Trev!” she called out before she could think better of it. 

Trev froze, not turning around. Her back was rigid, her shoulders rode up high. A hurt radiated from the way she held her neck, stiff, tight and tense. 

“We’re still friends,” Cassandra said. It wasn’t a question, just a mere statement of fact. “We are still comrades. I have your back.”

Trev half turned, her jawline tight, but she forced herself to smile. In that moment, Cassandra regretted bringing this entire thing up. Trev’s smile was brittle and fragile. “Of course, always.”

Cassandra waited, she watched and observed. Trev was still friendly with the others as usual but with her Trev constantly asked for consent before just doing anything like before. Doubt clouded her eyes more often, she became awkward. Before Cassandra could speak to her about it, plans were made to close the largest Rift of all, the one that started this entire thing. The troops trained, resources gathered, manufacturing ramped up and Trev got busy. There was no room left for anything else but the mission. 

Events swept all of them up and spat them out. The Rift was closed, the Inquisition triumphed. Leliana’s appointment to be the next Divine was finalised. An offer was made, and she accepted. Before she knew it, she was leaving Skyhold for Orlais and closing a significant chapter of her life. Cassandra had assumed keeping in contact was easy enough with mobile phones and internet functioning again. The Inquisition’s work wasn’t done and falling back into her old job wasn’t quite as easy as she had assumed. Weekly text messages and the occasional phone call turned to a monthly message tagged along at the bottom of official business to almost nothing at all for months on end. 

* * *

Tinny sounds came from her laptop speakers. Guitar strings strummed, vibrating the air, adding its own counterpoint to the symphony of the machines. 

_Let me hold you  
And know that there's a place you can come home to_

Cassandra hadn’t realised how much she had neglected her friendship with Trev and the others until she was planning for the ceremony. To have this reunion she had been looking forward to, despite all the pomp surrounding it, end like this might be her undoing. 

  
_Wherever you may go I'm by your side  
Although we say goodbye, come and let me hold you_

She ran her thumb over Trev’s knuckles, careful not to disturb the tubes attached to her arm. As the evening sun bathed the entire room in yellow and orange, giving some meagre colour to Trev’s ashen face, Cassandra’s facade broke. It started with her brow, twitching and furrowing, a line of tension ripped across her cheeks, down her jaw and ran straight to her throat.

 _And know that there's a place you can come home to_  
And it may feel like this is where it ends, but that's our heart's defence  


A lump formed, and it refused to budge. Her eyes grew hot and no amount of blinking helped. Tears well up in her eyes, Cassandra dashed them away angrily.

_In the end I know we'll always be friends_

“I was supposed to have your back, I’m sorry I failed you,” her voice quivered. As rough as she was rubbing at her face, she was gentle with Trev’s hand, holding and not squeezing. “You’re not my wife, but you’re my friend. You’re always my friend.”

**Lyrics taken from[Friends by David Benjamin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grIxxs61i9c)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	6. The Long Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra waited outside. Leven only allowed one visitor at a time, and she had acquiesced only after a chat with Leliana. Nobody could really deny what the Divine wanted. The others lined up, waiting for their turn. 
> 
> It had been a week. Trev was still being kept under. Peters had been hopeful since her MRI results showed significant improvements. The pressure inside Trev’s skull had gone down enough that the doctors were discussing weaning her off the drugs and bringing her back around again. As hopeful as the news had been, the others couldn’t hang around indefinitely. Dorian and Vivienne in particular were among the first to leave. They had countries to run after all. 
> 
> Sera tried to sneak in one night and was caught by Conti who was on duty. Cassandra had to haul the screaming woman away, reminding her that this was still a fucking hospital. It took thirty very long minutes before Sera was calm enough to visit. She took one long look at Trev, her already wide hazel eyes widened further with horror. She fled, tossing a “you had better take care of her” over her shoulder. Cassandra heard Sera’s sobs coming from the hallway outside despite the walls between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Angst train chugging along!

Cassandra waited outside. Leven only allowed one visitor at a time, and she had acquiesced only after a chat with Leliana. Nobody could really deny what the Divine wanted. The others lined up, waiting for their turn. 

It had been a week. Trev was still being kept under. Peters had been hopeful since her MRI results showed significant improvements. The pressure inside Trev’s skull had gone down enough that the doctors were discussing weaning her off the drugs and bringing her back around again. As hopeful as the news had been, the others couldn’t hang around indefinitely. Dorian and Vivienne in particular were among the first to leave. They had countries to run after all. 

Sera tried to sneak in one night and was caught by Conti who was on duty. Cassandra had to haul the screaming woman away, reminding her that this was still a fucking hospital. It took thirty very long minutes before Sera was calm enough to visit. She took one long look at Trev, her already wide hazel eyes widened further with horror. She fled, tossing a “you had better take care of her” over her shoulder. Cassandra heard Sera’s sobs coming from the hallway outside despite the walls between them.

Today, Josephine was visiting. She was the last of the former Inquisition members to visit. The others had their turns and had all left except Bull and his chargers as well as Blackwall who had signed on to help with the investigations. Josephine was going to return to Skyhold in a few hours. Working so far from her base of operations had prove untenable. 

Leaning against the wall outside Trev’s room, she could still hear the faint beeps and hiss-clickse. “Commander,” someone called. 

It was Conti. The around the clock guard on Trev had settled in a familiar routine with Conti in charge. Cassandra grunted at the woman. The team leader had a tendency to mother her for some reason. She was their Commander for Maker’s sake.

“You didn’t get much sleep again.” Conti ploughed on undeterred. 

“Had to make sure none of you are sleeping on the job,” she muttered under her breath, blinking away the grit in her eyes. It was a feeble attempt at humour, something she was distinctively not good at. That was Trev’s forte. 

“Lee reported you sneaking in at 3am.”

“I can read the time, team leader Conti,” she said, “and I do not sneak.”

“You can’t keep this up forever, Commander.” Cassandra’s eyes narrowed as they bored into Conti’s. The former Templar met it head on. Conti’s gaze was soft, almost a little pitying. “You need to see someone about these… issues.”

“Your concern is noted.”

Conti opened her mouth ready to push, but the door unlatched. Cassandra dismissed Conti’s meddling. She only had to hang on till Trev was brought out of her coma. Everything would be fine that. Trev would bounced back like she always did. Any injury she took, she treated it like an insult to her abilities. 

Josephine walked out, her eyes red-rimmed. She sniffed and braced herself against the door frame. Cassandra hurried to take her weight, noting her ashen parlour and helped her to a nearby chair. Josephine sagged against it, her hands trembling as she rested them in clenched fists against her knees. Kneeling down, Cassandra held Josephine’s hands. The stark difference between Trev’s and Josephine’s hands were immediately apparent. She shoved that little knowledge aside. “Are you all right? Do you need to lie down?” 

Josephine shook her head, her breath came in shuddering spurts. Cassandra was about to ignore her refusal when Josephine held onto Cassandra’s hand with bruising strength. “She is improving right? Please tell me she hadn’t look this bad the entire week.”

Rubbing Josephine’s shoulder with her free hand, Cassandra spoke, “Trev is improving. The doctors are talking about bringing her out of the coma soon. The Maker is watching over her.”

Josephine nodded, holding onto Cassandra’s words like a life raft. “I should get going. I have a flight to catch.” She forced herself to her feet. 

Cassandra hovered close, half afraid Josephine would collapse in her rush to stand. Confronting the gravity of Trev’s injuries had been hard on all of them. Seeing her relying on machines to keep her alive, tethered to the bed by tubes and restraints was difficult to swallow. Cassandra had to hold onto faith that Trev was getting better. Yes, Trev’s hand felt knobbier than before. She was losing weight, but she was also recovering. Cassandra had to believe it. 

Josephine straightened, and she did not waver. There was a steel in the Inquisition’s spoke person, one that bellied her gentle exterior. She took hold of Cassandra’s hands, her grip tight. She did not have to speak, Cassandra understood.   
  
“I will,” Cassandra promised. “I’ll take care of her.”

Within a couple of minutes of Josephine leaving, dragging her suitcase behind her, Cassandra felt a pang of loneliness. It wasn’t for her sake, but on behalf of Trev’s. She had nobody here for her now. It just reinforced how much more seriously Cassandra had to take her job as Trev’s health proxy and beyond that as her friend. 

Cassandra did her best with research. Very well aware of how medical bills could easily be racked up and knowing the on-going costs of recovery might not be covered by insurance, she embarked on an audit of Trev’s fiances. The more she dug, the more she realised Trev had nobody. Financially, Trev was healthier than the average 30 year old, having inherited the Trevelyan fortune after the Rifts tore most of Ostwick apart. 

Cassandra had no idea what Trev had intended to do with the real estate and money she had inherited because she never claimed them. It was a sore point, and one that nobody thought required addressing before. Cassandra had spoken to a lawyer so that she could kickstart the process of having the courts appoint a Next of Kin for Trev. In all probability, the court would appoint her to be that person. Cassandra was never more aware of her power she had over Trev. 

It was a worry for another time. For now, she would just wait for word from her lawyer. Everything lay in the hands of the Ostwick government. Sighing, Cassandra rose to her feet, and they took her back into Trev’s room automatically, much to Conti’s disapproval. 

* * *

Time didn’t have any meaning in Trev’s room. The passage of time was only marked by the number of times the nurses came to check on Trev. Sometimes it was to replace the bag of drugs that drained into Trev’s body, other times to check on her vitals. A few times, they entered to redress Trev’s wounds. Cassandra watched while keeping out of the way. 

Her eyes had memorised the path the scalpel had sliced across Trev’s chest, just under her left breast. It followed the curve of her ribs, red and angry skin covered the thin steel rods that held the broken bones in place. The chest tube was removed sometime between the fourth and fifth day. She was glad to see one less thing sticking out of Trev.

Cassandra learnt how light affected the way Trev looked. The pale light of dawn tinged Trev’s lips blue. It always made her heart quickened for a split second before the beeping from the heart rate monitor reassured her that everything was well. The orange and red glow of the rising and setting sun, setting Trev’s black hair on fire, giving her rosier cheeks, banishing the dark rings around her eyes. That was how she preferred to see Trev. 

Music played in the background as she watched over her friend. Lyrics sang by voices far better than her own to cover the relentless drone of the machines. She couldn’t keep up a running commentary of everything she was doing like the nurses did, but she made sure she let Trev know when she entered or left. 

Sometimes it felt like Cassandra herself was trapped in this limbo too. Both of them were stuck in this room where time had no meaning, a space unto itself, cut off from the mess that was unfolding outside the hospital, where theories of who was the real target raged on over social media, where calls for a manhunt echoed across the internet. Accusations were flung at Tevinter and Orlais in equal measure. Tensions ran high as everyone from the common citizen to politicians blustered and postured. Behind it all, calls for the Inquisition to disband simmered, lurking behind closed door meetings. Political factions that normally fought like oil and water found a common enemy in the only group that was trying to hold everything together. They plotted and waited for the first sign of the Inquisition crumbling without Trev at its helm. It was all Leliana and the former members of the Inquisition in positions of power could do to keep things from boiling over. 

Cassandra couldn’t imagine how Trev would be kept out of the media circus if she wasn’t in a coma. She was never one to sit still when there was work to be done. In a perverse way, she was glad Trev had this time to heal properly and not pushing herself to the edge of exhaustion. 

The odd little orchestra made up of beeps and clicks filled the space her words couldn’t. Cassandra almost didn’t catch when the door unlatched. She tensed up instantly, standing as her hand went straight to the pistol. 

“Hey,” Leliana said, holding her hands up. “It’s just me.”

Cassandra exhaled through clenched teeth, her heart still hammering against her chest. She made sure her pistol’s safety was back on before she holstered it. “What are you doing here?” A frown was tightening her brow.

“Thought I’d visit a friend.” Leliana dropped her hands. She was never in any real danger in the first place. Divine Victoria was a trained infiltrator and had a storied past. Any dossier anyone had on her would bear more redacted content than not. 

Cassandra grunted and gestured towards Trev. “Nothing has really changed.”

“But she is improving.” Leliana stepped up to Trev’s bedside, her eyes fixed on the Inquisitor. 

“Yes.”

“How are you feeling?” Leliana didn’t look at her. Her gaze locked on the monitors hovering over Trev’s head. 

Cassandra stiffened. Leliana was never one for frivolous innate conversation. Words were as much her weapons as that tiny pistol she kept secured to her ankle. “I’m fine. I’m not the one hurt.”

Leliana’s eyes snapped to meet Cassandra’s. “You know what I mean. I know you well enough to read the guilt written all over your face. Your attempted resignation was proof enough. This has been hard on you.”

“Why? I’m not special,” Cassandra countered, genuinely curious now. She stood, stepping up next to Leliana. Her eyes trained upon Trev’s face, what little she could see under the bandages, wires and tubes. “My friend lies on the edge of death. We don’t know if there is any irreversible brain damage, I don’t know if she’d still have me as a friend, but I am no different from you, or Bull, or Sera. Trev is a friend to us all.”

Leliana sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. She yanked her hat off and tossed it on the chair Cassandra just vacated. Her flame red hair usually tied up in a bun underneath the hat was freed from its hair tie. Exasperation radiated from her. “You are not like the rest of us.”

 _Always been you._ Trev’s voice echoed in her head. 

“Be honest, Cassandra,” Leliana went on. “I’m just worried, as a friend over how you’re taking this.”

Cassandra’s frown grew tighter. Wasn’t it natural to worry? Wasn’t it normal to feel this ache in her chest? She was fearful on Trev’s behalf. Wasn’t it just a friend’s duty to hold vigil? 

“I’m fine.” That was all she managed in a strangled choke. 

Sure, Trev wasn’t like other friends, that was because they had worked closely together for years, a bond forged in the fires of combat. In and out of the field, they spent countless hours together, trading stories with Trev, her time in the Seekers for Trev’s experiences with the Ostwick Marines. The highs and lows of their lives, tales she had kept close to her chest was drawn out with ease, but what was sharing personal anecdotes between friends? That’s what friends do. Leliana knew about those stories too. 

Trev was just different.

Leliana sighed. “Let’s pray,” she suggested. 

Cassandra nodded curtly, grateful to be rid of this topic. They bowed their heads together. Her mind churned, and her thoughts chasing themselves in circles. The music played softly over Leliana’s muttered prayers. 

_I've been looking in the wrong place  
Couldn't see what I've always known_

Just when she thought she could spend some time with her friend, this happened. This wasn’t how she wanted to spend time with Trev. How could she bear it if this sundered their friendship and cause irreparable harm to Trev?

_I was facing the wrong way  
I missed it all, I missed it all_

It didn’t matter if those words Trev spoke as she lay bleeding out made no sense. It didn’t matter learning she was still Trev’s health proxy scared her. All she wanted was Trev to wake up and be okay. 

  
_I don't care what they all say  
Let me find my own way home_

Trev was her friend, the best one of all. That was why her rib cage squeezed two sizes too small when Trev was shot. It crushed down harder when Trev flatlined in the OR. She felt it when they shocked Trev’s heart back into regular sinus rhythm. Trev had taken the bullet for them, for her. 

_I don't care if my heart breaks  
All I want is love_

Maker, what have I done?

* * *

“Do you want to help?” Leven asked one night as she and another nurse pushed on a trolley in. 

Cassandra grunted. She wasn’t able to sleep despite how much she needed to. Flashes of that day’s events mixed with her anxieties over her role as Trev’s health proxy and overwhelming guilt over her failures made for a fucked up dreamscape she didn’t enjoy. Only exhaustion made sure the nightmares were kept at bay. 

“You could help. It will give you something to do other than sit there and brood,” Leven pointed out. “Come on, I’m sure you’ve seen us do this enough time to know what to do.”

Leven jerked her head to her colleague, and the other nurse left. Cassandra sighed. Everyone was hellbent being meddlesome. She pushed herself to her feet and pulled the curtain to shield Trev’s modesty from the non-existent prying eyes that spied on them in the middle of the night. 

Leven nodded at Cassandra as if indicating that she should start. Cassandra cleared her throat. It was true, she had been observing the nurses clean Trev up. They always introduced themselves and let Trev know what was going to happen. “Trev, it’s me, Cassandra. I’m going to help clean you up today. I promise to be respectful.”

The key was to make sure none of the various tubes and wires were unduly disturbed. She pulled on a pair of gloves and gingerly, under Leven’s watchful eye, shifted the tubes on her side clear of Trev’s blanket before pulling the blanket down to Trev’s hips. Leven nodded with approval and did the same on the other side. Their movements co-ordinated. 

Cassandra stopped, her hands clenched tight by her side. Trev laid naked down to her hips. There were more tubes hidden away underneath the blanket and covered by the medical gown. Her skin was red and sore, irritated and chafed from having foreign objects embedded in it. Leven turned off the alarms from the monitor before removing the electrodes from Trev’s chest. 

Cassandra remembered the heat radiating from her face the first time she watched the nurses give Trev a sponge bath. She had never seen Trev naked before. They might have shared a communal bath back in Skyhold, but it was nothing more than seeing someone’s butt when she turned around to grab her towel and the like, not in this clinical settling. Trev lay completely exposed, so vulnerable without the ability to consent was just wrong. Still, Cassandra wasn’t going to let this stop her from helping in any way she could. 

Wet sponges with soapy water were slowly dapped across Trev’s front, before they moved onto clean water. Once that was done, the electrodes were reattached. The blanket was shifted this time exposing Trev’s legs and hips. Cassandra averted her eyes. 

“You’re not squeamish are you?” Leven asked as she carefully shifted the tube that threaded into Trev’s urethra and a one larger one that went into her rectum. 

“No,” came the curt reply, taking the soapy sponge from Leven and handing her the clean one. 

“It might not be my business, but I assume you will be taking over her care once she is well enough to be discharged.”

“Maybe.”

“Then you should look,” Leven said. “Incontinence after relying on a catheter for a while is entirely possible.”

Cassandra sighed and forced herself to look, even if the overwhelming feeling of wrong filled her chest, making it hard to breathe. She would endure as she would everything else. 

The bath didn’t take long. Pretty soon, Trev was cleaned. Her gown and blankets were draped over her like nothing had changed. As Leven re-secured on the wrist restraints on Trev’s wrists and compression boots to Trev’s legs, she said, “I’ll teach you how to massage her muscles.”

Cassandra sighed. If nothing else, she felt a little more comfortable doing that for Trev. Leven directed Cassandra like a drill sergeant would, guiding her hands over Trev’s arms and legs. Though her hands would still twitch away from straying near anywhere that she deemed too intimate, Leven would explain how it would help Trev, and it eased her fear she was taking advantage of Trev. She worked, feeling more useful she had been in days. Without an investigation on her hands, getting a trustee appointed to handle Trev’s finances in the hands of the Ostwick government, she had nothing to do but wait and pray. At this point, she was a little tired of praying. A warmth spread in her chest, easing the knot that had tangled up in there since Trev got shot. This was as good for her as it was for Trev. 

Leven nodded, satisfied with her technique. “Look,” she said, pointing at the monitors. 

Cassandra stared, not recognising what she was supposed to be seeing. All that work, and she was working up a sweat. Maybe she’d be able to sleep better after this. “I don’t know what I’m seeing.”

“Her heart rate is a little slower.”

For a brief moment fear choked her, she pulled her hands away from Trev. 

“No, no,” Leven chuckled. “The lower heart rate indicates lowered stress. She might look like she’s unaware, trust me, she knows.”

“Maker, lead with that the next time,” Cassandra continued working her fingers against Trev’s calves. 

In the end, Leven sighed with the satisfaction of a job well done. “I expect you to be here to help tomorrow.”

Cassandra straightened her back, feeling her body protesting, but she nodded. “I will.”

* * *

“I’ve started weaning her off the drugs. We should be seeing some signs of awareness from the Inquisitor soon,” Peters said. 

“Will she be awake today? Tomorrow?” Cassandra asked. “What should I be expecting?”

Ten days, it was ten long days since the shooting. The investigation was still going on. Leads were traced, witnesses questioned and security footage gone over with a fine-toothed comb. None of it bore any fruit. At least none that Cassandra had heard about. Bull and Blackwall reported directly Leliana and Vivienne. Nobody had seen fit to keep her in the loop. Her duty was to Trev, everything else was out of her purview. 

Peters shook his head, checking the restraints on Trev’s wrists before stepping back. “No, it will be a very slow process as the drug leaves her body. We’ll still be monitoring her closely. The key thing is to wean her off the breathing tube. Once she is able to breathe on her own, we will remove it.”

“Maker, yes,” she exhaled. 

It was selfish of her but to see that tube protruding from Trev’s mouth was the worst thing right now. All other tubes were hidden out of sight, or they are small and unobtrusive. But the one strapped to her face was thick and stark against Trev’s skin. It looked to have been painfully shoved down her throat, requiring suction from time to time to keep it clear. The nurses had to disconnect Trev from the ventilator and push yet another tube down her throat. It was awful to hear, even more horrible to watch. 

“There is no set timeline to know how long it’d take for her to fully wake up, especially when she has been put under for as long as she has.”

Cassandra nodded, mentally preparing herself for a longer wait. She had done her research, poring over pages and pages of forum boards and websites. She was confident since Trev was relatively fit and had a healthy life as the Inquisitor, both of which would contribute to bringing her out of this faster. 

“We will reassess her. I don’t want to push her recovery back by rushing.”

When Peters left, Cassandra braced her weight against the safety rails of Trev’s bed. A weight fell off her shoulders. Trev would wake, soon. Then it would be time to confess her guilt and Trev would withdraw her friendship or not. It was all in the Maker’s hands. This would all be over one way or another in a couple of weeks. 

She lifted her hand, ready to take Trev’s hand in hers again. It was an action so natural, so mundane in the lifetime that stretched between those ten days. Before it would have been unthinkable, but it was her tether now. The solid, slightly cool, touch of Trev’s fingers between hers was real proof she was here and alive. 

Impulse seized her. Casandra carefully unthreaded her fingers from Trev’s and moved her hand in a jerky motion towards Trev’s face. The swelling had gone down significantly, the tapes that sealed her eyes shut were removed. Though her head was still wrapped in heavy white bandages, Trev was beginning to look more like herself again. Cassandra could almost pretend Trev was merely asleep if it wasn’t for the tube between her lips. 

Gingerly she brushed thumb over Trev’s cheeks. “Wake up soon,” she whispered. “Come back to us all.”

**Lyrics taken from[All I Want is Love by A Great Big World](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7CbGzjxdN8)**   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	7. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No recovery was linear. Cassandra knew this. She was mentally prepared for this, at least she thought so. Trev moaned, her eyes fluttered as her hands tugged against the restraints. Her heart broke at the sight of it. 
> 
> “Shh…” Cassandra tried to soothe Trev. “It’s okay, I’m here.”
> 
> She took Trev’s hand. Despite the drugs coursing through her veins, Trev’s grip was surprisingly strong. Cassandra winced, but it was nothing compared to the pain and confusion Trev was going through. 
> 
> “Trev, can you hear me?” she asked, searching for some kind of recognition in Trev’s eyes. 
> 
> Trev’s head lolled towards her, seemingly in response to her voice. That infernal tube was still shoved in her throat. Peters didn’t think Trev was sufficiently strong enough to breathe on her own just yet, especially after her broken ribs had done a number on her lung. 
> 
> She rubbed her free hand over Trev’s hand. “You’re fine. You’re in the hospital because you were shot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst... of course there's always more angst. :D
> 
> **Warning for vomiting**

No recovery was linear. Cassandra knew this. She was mentally prepared for this, at least she thought so. Trev moaned, her eyes fluttered as her hands tugged against the restraints. Her heart broke at the sight of it. 

“Shh…” Cassandra tried to soothe Trev. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

She took Trev’s hand. Despite the drugs coursing through her veins, Trev’s grip was surprisingly strong. Cassandra winced, but it was nothing compared to the pain and confusion Trev was going through. 

“Trev, can you hear me?” she asked, searching for some kind of recognition in Trev’s eyes. 

Trev’s head lolled towards her, seemingly in response to her voice. That infernal tube was still shoved in her throat. Peters didn’t think Trev was sufficiently strong enough to breathe on her own just yet, especially after her broken ribs had done a number on her lung. 

She rubbed her free hand over Trev’s hand. “You’re fine. You’re in the hospital because you were shot.”

Trev gurgled, the noise alarmingly wet. Her eyes shuttered close again as if the effort was too much for her weakened body to bear. It needed to be suctioned out again. The last time that happened, Trev fought the nurses despite her still drugged up state. The door opened and Leven entered. “Peters had ordered for Trevelyan to be sedated. She is stressed out by the tube.”

Cassandra grimaced. It had been two steps forward and one step back since the doctor started weaning Trev off the drugs keeping her under. 

“Most do not tolerate the endotracheal tube well,” Leven continued by way of explanation. “Don’t worry, it isn’t as strong a dose as before it’s just so she can tolerate it better.”

She had a small tray in her hand, a syringe was rattling around in it. The nurse ignored Cassandra in favour of Trev. “Hello Trevelyan, it’s Jules. I’m your nurse. I know it’s painful. I’m going to give you something to help you sleep all right?”

Trev’s eyes tracked Leven’s approach towards her but grew more agitated. Her soft moans turned into a muffled sort of shout. Eyes widening, the whites were stark against those brilliant amber and green eyes of hers. Cassandra rose, trying to block Leven from Trev’s sight. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It is going to be fine. I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.” The lie tasted like ashes in Cassandra’s mouth. She had failed to keep Trev safe, and that was why they were here. What was a little bitter aftertaste for Trev’s comfort? 

Leven took the opportunity to plunge the syringe into the IV port at Trev’s hand. The restraints prevented Trev from flinching out of the way. Whatever Leven had given Trev, it was fast acting. Within minutes, all the fight went out of Trev. The muscles that ran along her arms, the cord that rose against her neck relaxed. Those wonderfully mismatched eyes that Cassandra begged to be open, fluttered shut again. 

Cassandra sighed, falling back to press her back against the window. Leven patted her on her shoulder and left. No words needed to be exchanged, they had been down this road before. 

Pushing off from the window, she tugged the blinds shut, shielding the rising sun from disturbing Trev. Grunting, she shifted Trev into a more comfortable position, propping her head up with extra pillows and adjusting the bed into a flatter position before all but collapsing into her chair.

She wanted Trev to wake, but the agitation, confusion and sheer distress was unbearable. To think she had assumed the worst was behind them, how naive she was. No amount of googling and reading medical journal had prepared her for this. Glancing at Trev, she looked almost at peace, drugged back into restfulness again. 

It was a relief. 

Her mind baulked at that thought. Guilt soured her mouth as she realised she found Trev’s drugged state preferable — preferable because of _her_ guilty conscious. How could she think that? This was a setback as much as it was a reprieve. 

Cassandra scrubbed her face, wincing at the bruises that covered her wrist. Trev, despite her condition, still had the strength of a bull it seemed. She forced herself to her feet. “I’ll be back again Trev,” she spoke out loud. “I’m going to get a shower and some food. Then, I’ll be back, I promise. Just... try and get some rest.”

* * *

“She’s sleeping,” Leven said. 

Cassandra’s eyes studied Trev’s sleeping form. “Really? She has been sleeping an awful lot lately. She should be waking from the induced coma.”

“You’re right, but her sleep and wake cycle is being reestablished, and her body had gone through serious trauma. Sleep is one of the ways the body heals itself.”

She grunted, not quite convinced, but she trusted Leven not to sugarcoat her words. Running her sponge lightly over Trev’s thighs, she watched the soap sups formed a trail. Trev had been confused and disorientated the past few days, fighting her breathing tube more often than not. 

“So yes, she’d be sleeping between twelve to sixteen hours,” Leven replied easily. “Hand me that clean sponge.”

They traded off. Giving Trev a sponge bath had turned into a routine. It was Cassandra’s way of helping when she was helpless at all else. This was a solid lifeline for her sanity. 

“The spontaneous breathing trial went well, didn’t it?” Leven asked, handing Cassandra the dry towel. 

Cassandra grunted again. They had switched Trev’s ventilator to the minimal support setting. It was nerve wrecking to watch. Her eyes were glued to Trev’s monitor, praying that her stats held stable. Continual whispered words of reassurances spilled from her lips. She couldn’t quite tell if they were for her or Trev, but she took Trev’s lack of agitation to be a good sign. Peters gave her a thumb’s up when they hit the thirty minute mark.

“All that agitation, and all she was doing was fighting the ventilator,” Leven chuckled

“She’s a fighter,” Cassandra agreed, drying off excess water from Trev’s skin. 

Peters gave the go ahead for extubation after the test. The nurses worked expertly and carefully. They dragged that infernal tube from Trev’s mouth while instructing her to cough before swapping out for an oxygen mask. Cassandra was surprised at the length of the tube when it came out. It was no wonder Trev hated it. The entire ordeal had exhausted Trev. She went out like a light straight after that. 

“Did you notice?” Leven asked as she tucked Trev in under the blankets. 

Cassandra lifted her eyes to meet Leven’s, she had been watching Trev’s breath fogged up the inside of her oxygen mask. This was progress in her books. “Notice what?” 

“Trevelyan,” Leven replied, “she never took her eyes off you throughout the whole thing. Clearly she recognises your voice even if she’s still in a state of disorientation.”

Cassandra snorted. “I hope that’s true because it’s hard to see her like this.”

Leven squeezed her shoulder before putting away the cleaning supplies. “Trevelyan is making good progress. For now, we keep watch and guard her.”

“That much I know how to do,” she sighed. 

Leven left, leaving Cassandra alone in the room once more. She found herself rooted on the spot, like the guardian she was supposed to be. Reaching down, she took hold of Trev’s hand as usual. Careful and ginger, unwilling to disturb the sleep Trev needed so much. She gave Trev’s fingers a light squeeze, and this time, Trev’s hand tightened around hers. 

* * *

“The boss looks better,” Bull remarked. His bulk with all the tactical gear took up half the room that wasn’t dominated by Trev’s bed and the equipment she was tethered to. 

“Yes, she does,” Blackwall replied, his words muffled by that beard of his. 

Trev stared at them and grunted. Her eyes fluttering open and shut as she fought to stay awake. The restraints rattled a little as she tried to raise her hands up. 

“Boss, it’s me. Bull.”

Her eyes darted over to him when he spoke, but her focus drifted away quickly. She ignored him in favour to the restraints as she tried to figure them out. 

“Inquisitor,” Blackwall tried as he stepped forward, couching low so that his face was right in Trev’s eye line. “I’m glad to see you much better.”

Trev hummed, a noise that was not quite an acknowledgement or a question. She sighed, her arms relaxed as she gave up on the restraints. Instead, she turned her head away so that her pillow was pressed against one cheek, her eyes trained on Cassandra. Bull and Blackwall stared awkwardly at Trev who was pointedly doing her best to pretend they weren’t there.

Cassandra got off her chair and asked, “Trev, are you tired?”

Another huff of breath, and she closed her eyes. Blackwall chuckled and nudged at Bull. “Come on, let’s go. Trevelyan wants to rest.”

Cassandra offered them an apologetic smile as they left. She adjusted the bed so that Trev could be in a more comfortable position. 

“Thank you,” Trev whispered, a rasp through the oxygen mask. Her eyes already shuttering in fatigue. 

“I’ll be back.” She gave Trev’s hand a squeeze before heading out. 

The visit was really short, not more than ten minutes really. Though Trev still spent more time asleep than awake, her confusion was slowly fading. With the breathing tube only removed a few days ago, Trev couldn’t speak much, her throat still raw and painful. Thankfully, any pain was managed by medication. 

“How’s the investigation going?” Cassandra asked. 

Bull took a deep breath as if he was about to launch into a lengthy rant as he scrubbed his face with frustration, but Blackwall tapped his shoulder and shook his head. Bull laughed, catching himself, a low rumbling thunder of amusement. “These lips are sealed on pain of death. One doesn’t simply cross the Divine.”

“Seeker, leave the investigation to the Chargers,” Blackwall said, clapping a hand against her shoulder. 

“I wasn’t trying to pry my way into the investigation,” Cassandra pointed out. “I need to know if Trev’s security needs to be stepped up. If there are threats against her.”

Bull shook his head. “When is the boss’ life not under threat? There is always the disgruntled politician or another,” he pointed out. “Whatever you’re doing is fine.”

“Enough about that,” Blackwall said. “It’s good to see Trevelyan awake again. Her confusion, is that normal?”

Cassandra nodded. This, she was familiar with. “Yes, her confusion is expected to continue for a little while. They will be monitoring her condition as they try to ascertain if she has any brain damage.’

Bull’s smile slid off his face while Blackwall sighed. “A bullet did crave through her head.”

“It did,” Cassandra sighed. 

“Is there a chance there won’t be any damage?” Blackwall pressed. “I mean Trevelyan survived the Scared Ashes and all that combat we saw after with barely a scratch on her.”

“Barely a scratch?” Bull snorted. “You mean like that time we visited Crestwood, and she fell through some rotten floor boards? Or the time when she almost fainted from dehydration when she offered the last of her water to one of the townspeople at the Hissing Wastes?”

Cassandra chuckled. 

Blackwall shook his head. “I’ve got a good one. I remember that time when she got impaled on some rusty rebar.”

Cassandra stiffened, she remembered that one. They were scouting through the urban ruins of the Hinterlands. Refugees took shelter in the rundown buildings. They were half starved and cold. Proper shelter was in short supply, food and water even shorter. 

“We can’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” Trev had said. 

Cassandra eyed Trev with exasperation. The ex-marine, turned university student, had just been cleared of all charges, but Cassandra still had her doubts allowing her anywhere near the Inquisition’s operations. The Herald of Andraste as the people were beginning to call her, no doubt thanks to Josephine’s efforts, could not take anything seriously, let alone follow orders. An odd affliction for a former soldier.

That trip to the Hinterlands was but the first of many they would take together. Grief still rode in Cassandra’s chest while the urgency of the situation made her short temper even shorter. Her edges were as sharp as they came, but Trev was having none of it when it came to the welfare of innocents. 

Her mismatched eyes glared with an impatience that Cassandra had never seen before then. “Fine, what do you propose?” Cassandra asked, her voice hard, ready to dismiss any and all harebrained ideas. 

“Lace had mentioned spotting looters around one of malls at the main square—”

“Harding,” Cassandra interjected. “She prefers Harding, and we do not have the jurisdiction to arrest anyone for looting. We do not have manpower to take on a mob anyway.”

Trev folded her arms, her left hand still bandaged up. The entire Scared Ashes was levelled, taking down countless of lives, chief among them Divine Justinia, and all Trev had was a concussion and a cut that nearly severed the tendon in her left palm. Cassandra had caught Trev dancing like Michael Jackson — badly might she add — because she wore a fingerless glove on her left hand to protect the bandages from getting wet. 

“I am not done.” Trev squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Bloody Seekers, can’t fucking wait for me to finish speaking,” she muttered under her breath, not all that quietly. 

“I heard that,” Cassandra growled. 

“That’s the point,” she snapped right back. Taking a deep breath, she rolled her shoulders. “What I meant to say is — with the looters concentrating around the malls, there are many mom and pop stores scattered around, we—” she gestured at the others gathered “—can go look at those.”

Trev rattled on, pulling out a map she had marked out after speaking to one of the refugees. This was information not even Harding had been able to ascertain. 

“So, Seeker, do we have your permission or not?”

Cassandra frowned. “Why are you asking me?”

Her mismatched eyes narrowed as she frowned. “Are you not in charge of this whole enterprise?” Trev waved her hands to encompass the loose formation the small squad stood in. “I am merely the figurehead you’re waving around. I’m not even saying that I don’t see the reason why I’m forced, might I add, to join up. Someone has to make sure you people don’t just contain the Rifts and forget about what actually matters.”

A retort poised on Cassandra’s lips, an instinctive drill sergeant desire to yell at a wayward recruit, but Trev wasn’t wrong. She _wasn’t_ in charge. Casting an eye at the others, a mere handful of them, they shuffled uncomfortably, their rifles held loosely against their chests. These were junior Orlesian Templars that survived the Scared Ashes by dint of being tasked to lesser jobs while the seniors perished. 

They travelled down to the Hinterlands in a larger group, comprising of a bunch of volunteers that signed up back at Haven. They left them back at the Crossroads, along with the Bull and his Chargers to organise the refugees, setting up shelters and distributing food and water. The Chargers dealt with security. What with looters and rioters out in force

Blackwall stood passively apart from the Templars, watching and waiting. Trev recruited Bull and Blackwall herself against Cassandra’s wishes, but Cassandra had been overruled by Leliana and the others on this matter. The idea of mixing civilians in what clearly was a military operation felt like a bad idea. 

But the simple truth of the matter was they needed people. 

“Herald, you’ve made your point,” Cassandra conceded. “So Bull would take the others to shore up our camp at the Crossroads while the rest of us would check out Dusklight for more supplies?

Trev grimaced at the title but nodded. The trek to Dusklight was quick despite the rough terrain. They skirted around smaller Rifts they spotted along the way, pausing long enough to put them down on Trev’s map. The priority was to get at least a rudimentary network back up. Their walkie talkies’ limited range was fine for missions but having to resort to landlines just to speak to Haven was far from ideal. Communications could mean life or death in these times. 

According to the refugee Trev had spoken to, the building with a roaring dragon statue perched at the top of it had a couple of Asian mini marts on the ground level. Large chunks of the dragon statue itself littered the ground. Cracks had formed all along the facade of the building. These combined didn’t give Cassandra much confidence in the stability of the structure. 

“Maybe the looters were smart to leave this place alone,” Cassandra pointed out. 

Trev’s stance was different now. Shoulders set, eyes keen, she surveyed the perimeter. “Calculated risk, such is the job,” she replied cooly. 

Cassandra had spend hours poring over Trev’s record while interrogating her, trying to determine means, motive and evidence. Trev’s record with the Ostwick marines was spotless, well liked and had a commendation or two from her COs, no medals but medals weren’t so cheap they gave them out on a whim. Her finances wasn’t robust but understandably so for a student without family support. An Ostwickan GI bill could only stretch things so far. The fine art degree with a focus on photography had surprised Cassandra, but she dismissed it quickly enough since it wasn’t pertinent to her investigation. Trev’s school records just as squeaky clean. Her scores were average, doing surprisingly well for her creative writing. Cassandra did not see _this_ soldier in those records. 

“Come on,” Trev said as she broke the glass on a window with the butt of her rifle before climbing in. 

Finding the supplies was easy enough. They even hit the jackpot with a pharmacy with an intact stash of vital medical supplies. They sorted them out and took the ones in desperate shortage first, deciding to come back for the rest once Bull and the Chargers were done at the Crossroads. Blackwall was hauling the supplies while Trev ventured towards the stairwell intent on heading down to the basement. 

“We have enough we should head back,” Cassandra called out, following Trev into the stairwell. 

That was when things went wrong. 

A rumbling ripped through the building, the ground shuddered. Everything lurched sideways. Cassandra’s stomach flopped as her balance was tipped. She was slipping past the missing handrails. Trev yelled a cry of alarm. Her fingers clung to a fire extinguisher anchored to the wall. Cassandra flung her hand out and grabbed the only thing she could find — Trev’s arm. Then, they were both falling. Body tensed, eyes widened in primal fear when arms wrapped around her before it all came to an abrupt halt. 

The rest of it went by in a blur of frenzied activity and barely held back anxiety and fear. Through it all Trev was joking and doing her best to keep everyone’s spirits up despite being the one with a piece of rebar embedded in her, not once did she get angry or blame Cassandra. 

Maybe it was then, Cassandra couldn’t rightly say, that her impression of Trev changed. The suspect turned Herald and now maybe dare she say it, a comrade. 

* * *

The news of Trev’s condition was received with cheer. It spread like wildfire even before Josephine put it up on the Inquisition’s official social media channels, no doubt Sera’ work. Looking out from the window, Cassandra could still see people leaving flowers at the Square where the shooting took place. There were even prayer sessions and candlelight vigil held in Trev’s honour nightly for a good week or so. 

Trev’s recovery was on track, with her getting more clear eyed as the days went by. However Cassandra noticed her previous propensity to chat with everyone about anything and everything seemed to have dulled. She put it down to Trev’s healing and exhausted body. 

Trev’s eyelids parted just a tiny bit at the sound of the door creaking open before shutting them again. She was curled up on her side as much as her restraints allowed her. “Morning,” she crocked, breath misting against the oxygen mask. 

Cassandra smiled. “Good morning.”

It really was the simplest things she appreciated now. Never mind that the sun had only begun to rise, the first rays of the day beating down against Trev’s back; never mind she had just left Trev’s room barely six hours ago to crash in her quarters. To be able to have this exchange with Trev now was something she didn’t think she’d have during those early days. 

Cassandra had been in talks to get Trev’s restraints removed so that she wouldn’t be quite so agitated about them. Peters agreed. It was what they were working towards, but he warned, “This agitation we are seeing might not simply be part of her waking up process. You should be prepared for some amount of personality changes given the trauma she had suffered.”

That warning put a dampener on her mood. However, seeing the strides Trev had made since she woke up, the flare of hope that burnt in her chest wasn’t going to be deterred quite so easily. The Maker would be kind to Trev she believed. “The restraints are exactly what’s increasing her agitation. Hell, I’d be annoyed if it were me.”

Peters sighed but conceded. “But the restraints goes back on if she yanks out anything. Trevelyan still has the ICP monitor in, that and the other catheters and IVs. She needs them.”

“Fine.” Cassandra wasn’t entirely happy, but she had no wish to see Trev’s recovery be impeded by her own impatience. The rest of Trev’s catheters could be addressed at a later stage. Right now, not having Trev look like a prisoner in her bed, returning some semblance of autonomy to her was key. 

Trev groaned. It dragged Cassandra from her reverie. She closed the door and stepped up to the bed. A furrow creased Trev’s brow, and she hissed, hands lifting as if to touch her forehead, only to be stopped by the restraints. 

Cassandra bit off a growl of frustration as Trev struggled. She shifted, trying to get comfortable. The motion only ended up kinking the intracranial pressure monitor’s wire. The machine beeped in annoyance. Cassandra snuffed out her irritation. She could take it up with Peters later. Right now, she had to fix the wire or suffer the beeping. Holding onto one of Trev’s hand to keep her from getting too agitated, she unkinking the wire with her free hand. Fingers laced between Trev’s, Cassandra couldn’t help but savour how Trev’s skin was no longer cold like before but warm. In fact, Trev was a little _too_ warm. 

“Are you all right?” Cassandra asked, taking care not to frown. Trev didn’t need to think she was annoyed at her. “Are you comfortable?”

The frown between Trev’s brow tightened further. Typically having Cassandra near and holding her hand eased what frustration Trev had towards the restraints, but it wasn’t working today. “Why?” Trev demanded, all the force of her irritation packed into a single word. 

“Remember what Jules said,” she asked. “Do you remember Jules?”

“Leven,” Trev corrected, her voice hoarse. “That’s what you call her.”

Relief lifted the weight in her chest. It was such a small thing but for Trev not just remember but pieced the information together on her own was a good sign. _Maybe, Maker willing, Trev had gotten away scot free again._

“Right, Leven. The doctor don’t want to you to be tugging on your IV and catheters.” Cassandra filled a glass and stuck a straw in it before bringing it to Trev’s lips. They had been working to wean Trev off her NG tube. It had been slow going as with everything else. Cassandra just needed to be patient and give Trev as much time as she needed. 

Trev drank as if she was parched, going so fast Cassandra worried that she might choked. The sun rays was strengthening and orange beams fell into the room. Trev winced, curling away with a moan. “Hurts,” she muttered into her pillow. 

That did it. Making sure the glass of water was safely on the side table, she undid Trev’s restraints, allowing her to turn her back against the window. Even from that mere contact, she could feel heat radiating from Trev’s skin. 

Something _was_ wrong. 

“Where does it hurt?” Cassandra asked, reaching out to press the call button. 

“Head.”

Cassandra’s heart skipped a beat, not in a good way. She resisted the urge to smash the call button again. Instead, she rubbed soothing circles against Trev’s back, making sure all the tubes and catheters weren’t folded under Trev’s body as she curled tighter and tighter in a ball. Those tight muscles seemed to relax a little, pressing against Cassandra’s hand, seeking comfort. 

“Hurts,” she moaned again, shuddering as a wave of shivers ran along her spine. 

The door between Trev’s room and the nurse’s station opened. It wasn’t Leven entering, it was an unfamiliar nurse. “Hello Trevelyan, what’s the problem?” 

“She’s really hot, I think she has a fever—” Before Cassandra could finish speaking, Trev stiffened. 

It was almost comical if weren’t for the situation they were in. Hands flying to her mouth as Trev fought against the blanket that had been warding off her chills. The nurse’s mouth rounded into a large O as Trev pushed herself up into a sitting position, yanking on everything she was still attached to. The monitors screeched and beeped their protests. Cassandra didn’t know if she should be supporting Trev’s weight or attempting to ease her back into the bed. Trev’s wounds were nowhere near healed enough for this sort of motion. 

Maybe undoing Trev’s restraints was a bad idea after all. With a muffled groan, Trev vomited. 

* * *

The blinds were drawn, cutting off the room from the outside. Despite being late afternoon, the room was entirely dim. They might as well be trapped in a strange limbo of twilight. Machines and screens that monitored Trev glowed, bathing her in hues of greens and blues. It made her her looked sickly and wan, more so than usual. Cassandra rubbed circles against Trev’s knuckles, her teeth biting down on her lower lips. Trev’s wrists were secured in the restraints again. 

Cassandra sighed. 

Trev made a mess, throwing up what little water Cassandra had offered her earlier and stomach bile. The entire ordeal and the cleanup after had tired her out. Once the antipyretic medication was administered, she went out like a light. All Cassandra could do was wait again. They had taken Trev’s blood for analysis. A fever was bad news. It could mean anything from an infection to a brain bleed. Coupled with the vomiting Peters wasn’t sure if they were two separate issues or they were connected. At this point Cassandra would take any kind of answer than this limbo. 

It took Cassandra a while to realise Trev was awake. Trev was studying her. Her eyes gleamed fever bright. Why hadn’t she put two and two together earlier? “Hey,” she whispered, keeping her voice low. 

Trev hummed, her breath condensing against the oxygen mask. The beginnings of a frown formed between her brow as she shifted her head to displace the mask. 

“No,” Cassandra scooted forward, shifting the mask back in place. “Please, don’t.”

Trev stared at her, irritation dancing in those eyes. Then she sighed, giving up with the energy going out of her. “Irritating,” she muttered. “I want it gone.”

“After Dr. Peters gives the green light,” Cassandra reminded her. 

“Peters, Peters, Peters,” Trev rolled her eyes, she tugged against her restraints weakly. “Want these gone too.”

“I know,” Cassandra sighed. “I’m sorry, but they got to stay for a little while longer. Maybe some visitors will take your mind from things?”

Trev considered, her gaze drew inwards. 

“Like Bull and Blackwall who came a couple of days ago.”

Trev didn’t reply. For a moment, Cassandra wondered if she had fallen asleep again, but the grip Trev had on Cassandra’s hand was strong, not that of a sleeping person’s. 

“Maybe, don’t know what I’ll talk to them about.”

Cassandra putting Trev’s sullen tone down to the fever. Nobody was at their best if they had so much going against them. She raised her free hand, and reaching out in a gesture one might use to feel the temperature of a sick person. But she hesitated. Her hand hovering awkwardly between them. Trev eyed it curiously. 

Cassandra touched Trev while she was under sedation, to comfort Trev as she struggled against the drugged sleep, to ease Cassandra’s own anxieties. Why was it different when she was awake? 

Her heart thudded against her chest hard. This wasn’t combat, Trev wasn’t a grenade about to go off. Why did she feel so on edge? Trev was a dear friend, someone Cassandra cared for. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she wondered if they had hooked her up to the heart rate monitor, would it be running at twice a normal resting heart rate? 

A soft snore came from the bed. Trev was fallen asleep. 

The tension went out of Cassandra like a ballon deflated. Her fingers were gentle as she brushed them against Trev’s forehead, taking care to avoid the ICP monitor and the side where her wound was. She couldn’t help but chuckle at her odd reaction earlier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	8. The Toll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fever had been a setback, but there was improvements since. Trev’s lung had recovered enough she didn’t require supplementary oxygen any longer. Along with it, the ICP and invasive monitoring were removed as well. Trev threw Peters a dirty look when her wrists were freed from the restraints that day, making a big show of rubbing her wrists. However, she remained suitably silent and agreeable when Peters admonished her about yanking out any of her IVs and remaining monitors. 
> 
> “I’m not stupid,” Trev pointed out. “They hurt.”
> 
> Peters sighed. “They do. Your fever is due to a UTI, thankfully none of your surgical wounds are infected.”
> 
> Trev squirmed. There was a rustling not there before. “I don’t like wearing a diaper.”
> 
> Cassandra grimaced, feeling a pang of sympathy. “You got to right now while you retrain your ability to hold your urine,” Peters pointed out. 
> 
> Trev frowned, a weary sort of anger in the glare she shot Cassandra, seeing that Peters wouldn’t budge on that point. “I don’t like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning for vomiting in this chapter.**
> 
> Here it comes. (Not the vomiting but one of those tags I've got up there.) xD

The fever had been a setback, but there was improvements since. Trev’s lung had recovered enough she didn’t require supplementary oxygen any longer. Along with it, the ICP and invasive monitoring were removed as well. Trev threw Peters a dirty look when her wrists were freed from the restraints that day, making a big show of rubbing her wrists. However, she remained suitably silent and agreeable when Peters admonished her about yanking out any of her IVs and remaining monitors. 

“I’m not stupid,” Trev pointed out. “They hurt.”

Peters sighed. “They do. Your fever is due to a UTI, thankfully none of your surgical wounds are infected.”

Trev squirmed. There was a rustling not there before. “I don’t like wearing a diaper.”

Cassandra grimaced, feeling a pang of sympathy. “You got to right now while you retrain your ability to hold your urine,” Peters pointed out. 

Trev frowned, a weary sort of anger in the glare she shot Cassandra, seeing that Peters wouldn’t budge on that point. “I don’t like it.”

Peters patted Trev on the knee through the blanket covering her legs. “Just until your fever is gone and the infection clears, all right?” Trev stiffened and shifted away. “Then, we see about using the bed pan or trying the toilet.”

Leven entered the room with food distracting Trev from her subject of ire. “Shall we try eating?” 

Despite Trev’s displeasure and almost petulant behaviour, Cassandra was pleased the fever didn’t signify more serious issues. Trev had enough going against her. 

* * *

“Hello, Trevelyan,” Leliana greeted as she entered. 

Trev’s eyes flicked up and away, disinterested and tired. The fever had broke. The confusion and disorientation was mostly gone, but the inferno had taken its toll. She sighed. “Hello.”

At least Trev wasn’t completely ignoring her visitors this time Cassandra observed. Maybe she felt a little better. Leliana squeezed Cassandra’s shoulder as she made her way to Trev’s side. 

Trev hadn’t had many visitors beyond Bull and Blackwall stopping by once or twice. They never hung around for very long since they were kept busy. Leliana was busier still, and she had a tendency to come at the wrong times. Trev was almost always asleep or away for yet another scan. 

“You have visitors,” Leliana said. “Aren’t you eager to see them?”

Trev grunted. “No.”

Leliana shot Cassandra a questioning look, a subtle flick of her finger did all the talking. Trev’s eyes tracked them as they shifted to the far corner of the room, but she didn’t protest as she sometimes might. 

“Maybe it’s a bad time?” Leliana whispered, casting a worried look at Trev. “She is still recovering from the fever after all.”

Cassandra sighed, glancing at Trev. Her mouth was stretched wide in a yawn as she looked out the window. Her hand reaching up to her head to scratch. An ugly line of staples stood stark against Trev’s skin. It traced the arc of her skull, a line of silver soldiers was all that held her head together. Even now, it still looked red and painful. Her black hair that had been completely shaved for the surgery was beginning to grow back in again. The swelling that distorted her face in the first week had completely vanished. 

It has been almost been a month since the shooting. She had spent almost the entirety of it in a drugged coma or in a near constant state of sleep sprinkled with brief periods of confusion. For a while her life hung in the balance and all seemed bleak. Now, as Cassandra studied the Inquisitor, sometimes catching a rare smile when she just woke up and their eyes meet, she wondered why she had been so worried. Trev always bounced back. She was blessed by the Maker. Soon Peters would give the green light for her to start physical therapy. 

And… she’d return to Skyhold. 

Cassandra swallowed drily. The prospect didn’t sit right with her for reasons she couldn’t pin down. It was completely expected for Trev to return to Skyhold. She didn’t _have to_ stay in Orlais for physical therapy. Her condition was stable. In fact, it made more sense for Trev to return to Skyhold. It was her home after all. She’d be more comfortable there surrounded with her things and people she knew. Once Peters signed off on it, Trev could be gone in a matter of days. 

_Gone._

Cassandra would be able carry out her duties as the Right Hand if she didn’t need to act as Trev’s bodyguard. Things would go back to how they were. They would return to being friends who see each other once every couple of years. That thought brought a pang to her chest. She didn’t want that. She’d miss Trev terribly. When Trev laid in a coma, she had regretted allowing their friendship to fall by the wayside, she didn’t want to make that mistake again.

_But Skyhold is her home._

“Cassandra,” Leliana called, jolting her out of her thoughts. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. If Trev was to return to Skyhold, so be it. After the investigation has wrapped up, she would do right by their friendship. 

“Are you okay?” Leliana asked. 

Cassandra nodded. “Just got a little distracted.”

“With Trev, I see.” The beginnings of a grin tugged at the Divine’s lips. 

A disgusted groan fell from her lips. Old rumours refused to die it seemed. Leliana was always so sure Trev and herself were meant to be a couple. These rumours weren’t confined to the Inquisition’s inner circle too. It went public. For whatever reason, most people just assumed Trev and herself were a couple, no doubt fanned by the various publicity photos Trev did with Cassandra in the earlier days of the Inquisition when they tried to bank on the Pentaghast name to drum up support. Hell, even that nurse had assumed they were together. 

Trev turned her head to look at the noise. A flicker of recognition danced behind her eyes as she snorted before turning her attention back to the window. 

“Trev is practically all I think about. Her security, her recovery, her well being,” Cassandra pointed out. “Josephine and Cullen had travelled a long way to visit. Trev is rather bored with these four walls all day long.” Trev grunted in agreement but she didn’t take her eyes from the window. “Visitors would do her some good, seeing some other faces than mine or the medical staff.”

Leliana stepped closer. “I don’t think she tires of your face as much as you may think.”

Another roll of her eyes, Cassandra wished Leliana would just let the subject drop. Leliana’s phone buzzed, and she checked it. “They have arrived. Blackwall has picked them up from the airport.”

“They have a security team?”

“Of course, no precaution is too much when…” Leliana’s face grew solemn, eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Well, the situation being what it is.”

* * *

Cullen and Josephine entered Trev’s room with an odd mix of apprehension and hope. The last time they saw her, Trev was still under, near unrecognisable due to the swelling and bandages. Today she was sitting up, looking a little less pale with eyes clear and alert. 

“Stop it,” Cassandra whispered when Trev’s hand reached towards her head again. 

It seemed running her fingers through the fine short hair provided some manner of distraction to Trev. Cassandra should speak to Peters and see what manner of activities would be suitable for Trev. She was clearly bored and in need of distraction now that she wasn’t sleeping half the day away. 

Trev shot her a look and redirected her attention back at Cullen and Josephine. Josephine was the first to approach. Tears were standing in her dark brown eyes as she whispered a soft, “Oh Maker.” She ran over and gave Trev a hug. 

Trev’s arms were pinned by her side as Josephine pressed her face gingerly against Trev’s. Trev’s eyes darted wildly at her as she muttered an awkward, “Hello.” 

Despite being friendly and always ready with a smile, eager to laugh with others, Trev was never much of a hugger. It was not that she was touch averse, she just never initiated them. Cassandra chuckled, she wasn’t surprised to see Trev at a loss of what to do with Josephine’s outpouring of emotions. 

Cassandra glanced at Cullen. There were lines where once there were none. Taking over for Trev had aged the Commander. “Good to see you awake, Inquisitor,” Cullen said. 

Trev frowned as she craned her neck to look over Josephine’s shoulder at Cullen. “Hi.”

Josephine’s tears stained Trev’s medical gown wet by the time she released Trev from her grip. Trev smiled awkwardly at the pair. Cullen dropped the bag he was carrying and rummaged around in it. “We’ve brought some of your things from Skyhold. I thought you might be bored without it.” He pulled out a battered looking tablet. 

Cassandra recognised the tablet. Trev hadn’t had anything but the clothes on her back when they found her under the rubble of the Sacred Ashes. The first thing she had asked for when she was cleared was a tablet. Well, a phone was paramount, and that was provided immediately once the decision was made to include her in their operations. The tablet came next. She was never without either devices on or off the field. Most of the time, she was reviewing and manipulating photos she took using her phone on her tablet. Occasionally, Cassandra caught her writing in it. She had seen some of the photos Trev took. They were really good. Varric had suggested they print a book of the photos Trev had taken. He was sure it would sell well. Cassandra agreed with the nosy reporter for once. 

Trev ran her fingers over the tablet, her eyes blank. She looked at Josephine and Cullen, annoyance grew like a tree taking root. Cassandra could see it in the deepening line between her brows. 

“Who are you?”

Blood drained from Cassandra’s face at those three words. 

“And what am I supposed to do with this?”

* * *

Now, clustered here in Peters’s office with Josephine and Cullen, three levels down and a million miles away from Trev, Cassandra’s heart still refused to calm down. 

“Does she not remember?” she demanded, her words curt and clipped. 

Peters looked at his computer screen, studying Trev’s latest CT scans. Facing what was basically his firing squad, his complexion grew a little paler. Blackwall had taken over her duties while Cassandra was here. Mere minutes apart, she was already getting antsy about being away. When she left, Blackwall was coaxing Trev to finish her lunch. Her inability to recognise Blackwall was now clear. What Cassandra had put down as disorientation from sedation or sullenness from her situation was Trev’s puzzlement at strangers hellbent on behaving like she should know them. 

“It is still early in her recovery, her memory loss may not be permanent,” Peters explained.

Permanent — the word rang in Cassandra’s head. “But?” she pressed. There was always a but. She was pragmatic enough to expect it. 

“Post-traumatic amnesia is common with victims of severe brain trauma. She may recover her memories, she may not, but this isn’t time to lose hope.”

Cassandra took a deep shuddering breath. She had been watching Trev, why hadn’t she notice? 

“But she remembers Cassandra,” Cullen pointed out. “She is comfortable with her. We have worked side by side for years together, why does she only remember Cassandra?”

Peters grimaced. “We have to test the extent of the memories she has lost. But from our questions earlier, it’s pretty clear she doesn’t remember being the Inquisitor, she doesn’t remember anything from the past five years. Effectively anything she had done during the Inquisition as Inquisitor is gone.”

Josephine nodded, tears pricking her eyes for all the wrong reasons. She had been taking tight small breaths, on the verge of hyperventilating. Cullen reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “We will get through this,” he whispered under his breath. “The Inquisition will weather this. Trevelyan will recover.”

“Retrograde amnesia typically affects the memory surrounding the trauma, but in Trevelyan’s case,” Peters gestured at the scans, turning his screen so that it faced them, “Bullet fragments were embedded in her temporal lobe. There is no doubt about it Trevelyan has brain damage, but please, do not give up hope.”

“There is no existing swelling or brain bleed?” Cassandra almost desperate for a simple answer to a complex question. 

“No, currently there isn’t any.” Peters pursed his lips. “It is still early to say for sure on that front, but rest assured there is hope for recovery.”

Hope. The word rang hollow like the gulf that opened up in her chest. She grieved. Memories they all had shared, all the laughter and tears, the trials and the fights their journey had taken them on, all of that had vanished in the space between a breath and the next. A simple pull of a trigger, and it was taken from Trev, and she didn’t even know Cassandra was responsible for it. 

_Maker, please forgive me._

* * *

Everyone was solemn, locked in their own minds. Their footsteps echoed down the corridor. They made for a formidable group. Doctors and patients alike couldn’t help but to stop and stare. Leliana’s guards kept them all at bay. 

Cassandra couldn’t grasp what amnesia truly meant for Trev. She had seen her fair share of head injuries, but amnesia felt like something that only happened in fiction. Yes, Trev had amnesia, but she was also recovering. There was her future to consider. As guards persuaded others waiting for the lift to take the next one while they piled into it, taking them back to Trev, Cassandra felt compelled to speak. 

“You all need to finalise the timeline on Trev’s recovery.”

“Her recovery?” Cullen asked. “She isn’t going to be discharged anytime soon. There is still her physical rehab to consider.”

The hum of elevator working filled the air. 

“Yes, but physical rehab doesn’t need to be done here. The Frostbacks also have excellent medical care facilities. I’ve done some research.” Cassandra pulled out her phone. “Here, let me forward them to you. I’ve listed them down according to their proximity to Skyhold and which ones have a good record dealing with brain injuries.”

Cullen nodded, gears already turning as he worked out the logistics in his head. “We could provide her a small guard to see to her safety, going to and coming from the medical facility. Or perhaps a long term care home for her might be more viable.”

“Yes, but Skyhold will be more comfortable,” Josephine pointed out, latching on to a tangible task like a life raft. “Her room will provide her privacy. I’ll have to look at our finances, but maybe we could hire a therapist to work with her in Skyhold. Will her insurance cover any of this?”

Leliana cleared her throat. “Yes, but I think Trevelyan should have a say in her care.”

Cassandra stiffened, a flush riding up her neck. “Yes, of course.” She had completely written Trev out of the equation. Trev was awake, she might have retrograde amnesia, but she was more than capable of deciding for her own care.

* * *

It was uncomfortable. The gown was scratchy. The back of her right hand ached, especially where the IV port was situated. The diaper, the damn fucking diaper, was impossibly uncomfortable. She hated it. It was humiliating, but she conceded that it wasn’t as bad as wetting the fucking bed. Having the constant urge to pee, having it hurt when she did so was horrible. Leven told her the fever had broke, but why was her head still so fuzzy? 

So much irked her right now. Nothing was right. Maybe nothing could be right again. But what was right?

Trev sighed. She was used to silence. It was comforting and pleasant, allowing her to observe the world in peace and quiet. On a normal day — what’s normal anyway? — Cassandra would sit at her chair, typing away on her laptop. Trev had no idea what was so fascinating on it, but she figured to each their own. Cassandra was used to the silence, perfectly capable of inhibiting it without filling it with useless prattling like how Leven or the other nurses would. Then again, they never hung around for very long so it was fine. 

The silence was different today. It prickled against her bare skin, a weight against her shoulders, a pressure that suffocated her. She didn’t like it. That was not even taking into consideration the eyes. Oh fuck, all those fucking eyes. 

The man they called Cullen — his blonde hair, designer stubble verging on a full on wild beard. There was a look in those brown eyes of his. He kept glancing her way like he was hoping she morphed a second head and was constantly disappointed everytime she hadn’t. He was huddled close next to the Antivan. Josephine that was what they called her, another name that meant nothing. Soft curls framed her face, the rest was wrapped in a neat little bun. Her yellow jacket and dark purple blouse easily made her the most stylish person in the room. She was very well put together, but her grief was palpable. It made Trev uncomfortable.

Trev pulled her gaze away, concentrating on the tablet instead. Most of the stickers plastered over its cover had faded with wear. She could still make out logos and slogans on some. The slight textural difference between one sticker and the next was pleasing and strangely familiar. It was like an itch at the back of her mind, just ever so slightly out of reach. She folded the cover in on itself and powered up the device. The motion well practised like she had done it many times before, but she was a child of the modern times who wouldn’t know the rudimentaries of turning on a simple device like this? She pressed and held down the button, expecting to see the logo pop up on the screen. Nothing happened. 

Trev looked up to find everyone, literally every single fucking one of them, looking back at her. That watchfulness in Cassandra’s eyes, that flicker of anticipation in Cullen’s and the unrestrained hope in Josephine. Even Leliana — or the Divine as Cassandra sometimes called her with a low growl almost like it was a curse more than a title — had a grim sort of expectation. Irritation flared immediately. 

Peters and their reactions had made it really clear she wasn’t the woman she once was. There was a hollowness in the middle of her chest that wasn’t there before she knew about it. All of this was unbearable. 

“What’s the USB cable?” she asked, taking almost sadistic pleasure in their disappointment. If she was going to have to suffer the fucking diaper, they could handle this letdown along with her. “The tablet’s dead.”

One by one they looked away, leaving Cassandra starring straight at her. At least she was steadfast in her emotions, she didn’t hide them like the others. The others looked like children caught doing something shameful, something to be hidden. They pretended with false smiles and brittle eyes. Cassandra rummaged around the bag and produced a plug and cable set. Mere seconds later, the tablet was settled on the side table being charged. Without something else to distract her, she settled for the view outside her window again. 

* * *

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Josephine said. “But we’ll be traveling back to Skyhold soon.” Her disappointment was a solid thing across her shoulders as she cast a backwards glance at Trev’s closed door. 

Cassandra nodded. The heat of the underground car park assaulted her face. Sweat beaded across her forehead. Leliana was suffering under her vestments and that hat of hers. They stopped at a Chantry marked car. No doubt Leliana’s people had made arrangements for Cullen and Josephine. 

“What do we tell the press?” Josephine asked. “Varric has been trying to write think pieces after think pieces about the good we have done. Sera’s network has been trying to keep those communities we have yet to help calm, but the news of Trev’s shooting and her injury had been dominating. There even was a rumour of Trev’s death we had a hard time squashing. With Ferelden and Orlais fanning the fire… The Inquisition is on rocky ground.”

Cullen’s brow tightened as he loaded up their bags into the trunk. He closed it with a bang and rounded the car to join them. “Josephine is right. With Trevelyan at the helm we already have people calling for our disbandment. With her memory lost, the politicians would no doubt jump on it if we don’t address it first.”

“But Trev doesn’t deserve to deal with this now,” Cassandra pointed out. “She is recovering.”

“I know,” he sighed, “Maker I know. I don’t know how she does it. Now that it’s me calling the shots, the pressure is…” 

Cassandra sequeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have to do it all on your own. Trev has help too. Lean on Rylen a little more.”

Cullen’s wavering gaze hardened once more as he stood straighter. “You’re right. I wish…”

“I know,” she whispered. “Me too, me too.”

Leliana folded her arms across her chest. “Yes these are things to consider, but that’s not all. I’ve read the report Cullen has forwarded. There are still Rifts being discovered?”

“Nothing confirmed,” Cullen replied. “But Harding is looking into it. When we know, you’d know.”

As the others spoke, they made plans to close the hole that Trev had left, leaving her behind, Cassandra couldn’t help but feel that flare of guilt again. The world was passing Trev behind. That wasn’t right. She had given up so much for the Inquisition, suffered losses and she still went on. Now, she was being discarded, all because of one bullet. How was this not Cassandra’s fault?

Cassandra took a deep breath, a decision settled in her chest. If Trev was going to decide a direction for her health care, she should do it with all the information. 

“We shouldn’t tax Trev for now,” Leliana spoke, pulling Cassandra’s attention back to the conversation. “Peters did say it’s good to try and jog her memory, but with everything else we should take it slow. Meanwhile…”

Everyone sighed. Grief hidden to a greater or lesser degree was plastered over all their faces. Josephine took a shuddering breath and Cullen wrapped a hand around her shoulders. “See you tomorrow.” They got into the car, and it pulled away. 

Leliana looked at her, her gaze weary. “The Maker will see Trevelyan through,” she said. 

It was a wish and a prayer, all rolled into one. Cassandra offered a muttered one of her own. If the Maker was to heed anyone’s plea, it had to be His servants right? 

* * *

Orlais was modern. Everything was gleaming glass and sharp edged steel. Trev could appreciate the comforts of living on the cutting edge of modern technology, but it didn’t have the charm of the Free Marches. The bustle of a port city state that never sleeps, a never ending conveyance of trucks transporting goods that came from across the Waking Sea into Nevarra and beyond. 

The door unlatched as the evening sun coloured the view outside her window in hues of a fire. Trev didn’t have to look to recognise Cassandra’s footsteps. They were sure and steady, there was no subterfuge about them, well, other than when Cassandra was trying to be quiet and not wake her. 

“Trev, it’s me, Cassandra.”

“I know,” Trev replied, turning. In the wake of knowing she was missing not just the hours leading up to her injury that put her in the hospital, but literal years of it, she turned her thoughts inwards. Examining the edges of this hole in her memory that she didn’t really feel. It was a blackhole that sucked the smiles off everyone’s faces, especially Cassandra’s. 

She studied Cassandra’s face. Short black hair, trimmed and neat even as dark circles ringed her eyes. The deep scar that marked her left check, those eyebrows that were arched in a question at her now. They were all familiar. She felt an almost instinctive sense of trust and faith in Cassandra. 

“What is it?” Cassandra asked when Trev continued her frank examination. 

Trev shrugged. “Why do I remember you and not the others?”

It was a normal day, that much she remembered. Her classes were done, she was supposed to get lunch, but she was already running late. A particular war photojournalist that she admired was holding a TED talk at the Scared Ashes. Tickets were impossible to get because the Divine was holding a talk that same day. To make matters worst, tickets were being given away over the weekend, but she didn’t have the time to queue for them because she had classes and her side job to get to. It was by divine — ha! — intervention a friend working for the caterers had to call out sick, and she was subbing in. If that was how she was going to be able to get what little she could of the talk, she’d take it. Well, her very normal day went sideways when chaos erupted. 

She woke up cuffed to a bed in a hospital. And none of those soft medical restraints either. It was honest to goodness metal cuffs that rattled like chains. The moment she was checked out by a nurse Cassandra threw the door open and started demanding what had she done. 

“I mean, our first meeting was far from cordial,” Trev pointed out. 

Cassandra sighed. “Brain damage is difficult to predict.” Her hands lifted up as if she was gearing up for a lengthy explanation, but she let them fall again. Exhaustion was written into her bones. “I don’t know, I really don’t.”

“I know, it was just a rhetorical question.” Her head started itching again. Her fingers twitched. It was hard to resist the urge to scratch. 

Cassandra caught the motion and pursed her lips. She settled into her usual chair. Trev noted it was within easy reach of her hand if she was laying down. “I remember you know?”

The Seeker — ahh yes, she was the Seeker, a highly trained special operative, her brain supplied — stiffened. She held her breath. Trev could tell she was doing her best to stifle her kneejerk flare of hope. Trev appreciated the effort. Even if it was mere hours ago she first had it levelled at her, it got really tiresome really quickly. 

“Not that kind of remembering,” she said, far better to burst the bubble than have others carry false hope. 

Cassandra deflated but kept her gaze steady, no less interested in what she had to say. “What then?”

“You. And Leven but mostly you.”

Cassandra blinked. 

“Your voice, you greet me everyday, every night,” Trev explained. “You held my hand, I know that. It’s not some vague feeling I can’t explain. I know it. You were here.”

There was an odd crinkling at Cassandra’s nose, a subtle softening in the intensity of her gaze. Maybe even an odd glint of hope? Some other kind of hope. It was difficult to read Cassandra’s face. Trev couldn’t say if it was a product of her amnesia or it was just the way Cassandra was. She took a deep breath. “Maybe that’s why I remember you and not the others. I’m sorry to have been so… pissed off just now, but I can’t feel what I can’t remember.” Trev shifted, suddenly feeling awkward. The beginnings of heat creeping up her face. “So thank you.”

Cassandra stiffened, the cords of her neck bulged, eyes widening a little. Trev caught a flicker of something tightly held back in these amber eyes. Her lips twisted in a grimace. She looked away, her jaw locked so tight Trev could almost hear the grind of enamel against enamel. 

“Don’t thank me until you hear what I have to say.”

* * *

Her fever had broke, hadn’t it? Why was she feeling woozy again? Maybe the meds’ efficacy was fading. Perhaps the next dose was due soon. Trev hoped so. Heat was radiating from her skin again. She hunched over, her side protested, but she didn’t care. It was nothing compared to the throbbing in her head. Stabs of lighting pulsed on the side where her wound was. Arcs of light flashed right behind her eyes. She took a deep breath trying to master it. 

“So now you know everything,” Cassandra said, her voice was a distant sound made hazy by the electric storm in Trev’s head. 

Cassandra had been speaking and speaking. Trev listened, trying to make sense of her words, and the emotions she repressed behind them. Trev listened, she really tried. Cassandra’s shoulders rode up towards her ears, hunching over a little like she was bracing herself for impact. Trev blinked. She realised Cassandra was expecting her to be angry, to get mad, to rip Cassandra a new one, but Trev felt none of those things. In truth, the sheer deluge of words spilling from Cassandra's mouth was too much to process, but most of all, all Trev had heard was how guilty Cassandra felt. 

Trev coughed, her gorge rising as she pressed her hand against her eye, the one that had turned into a ball of fire. “So,” she winced, her voice vibrated inside her skull in a way that made her want to cry, but she gritted her teeth and carried on. “I was shot because of your failure.”

“Yes.”

“Because you were running security for the event?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

Cassandra frowned. “With the Orlais Chevaliers and the Chargers. Bull’s people.”

“But somehow it’s just _your_ fault?”

Cassandra stiffened, she got up from the chair. It scrapped across the floor. She walked towards the windows. The sun was setting. The angle was just right, sending the last of the day’s light searing into the room. Trev kept her back resolutely against the windows. Even the thought of all that light ignited a fire in her head. A loud bass line hammered inside her skull. Trev retched, feeling the hot scalding bile crawling up her throat into her mouth. She swallowed hastily. This talk was important, she wanted to give it her full attention. 

“Trev.” 

Cassandra spoke her name. It sounded desperate and infinitely guilt-ridden. She needed to respond somehow, it wouldn’t be right to ignore it. She turned just enough to look at Cassandra and that was already too much. Pain spiked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Despite her head bent forward, her hand covering half her face, light had seeped through. A whimper slipped through her lips. Bile, hot and acidic, launched up her throat again. She swallowed it all. 

“Trev?” Cassandra’s voice soft and tentative as a pressure rested against her shoulder. “You’re burning up again.”

The monitor behind her beeped, probably displaying some new number or other. Trev couldn’t concentrate, someone was taking an ice pick to her skull. “Cassandra, please.”

Arms wrapped around her and eased her back down onto the bed. A door unlatched and hurried footsteps approached. “Trevelyan, how are you feeling?”

She grunted, doing her best to calm her stomach, keeping her eyes resolutely shut. Someone drew the curtains, probably Cassandra because the nurse was pressing an ice cold stethoscope against her chest. “Breathe for me, Trevelyan. Nice big breaths,” the voice whispered. 

With the light cut in half, Trev could began to think again. “Hurts.”

"I know, I know,” the nurse cooed. A pair of fingers pressed against her neck for a minute or two and it went away. 

She wasn’t taking any chance, she wouldn’t open her eyes if she didn’t need to. The bassline faded a little, just a tiny notch. Electricity still crackled in her skull.

“What is wrong?” Whispers swirled around her. Words were like dandelions in the wind, drifting lightly in the breeze. “Brain injury, fever.” All it took was a strong gust to scatter them. “MRI scan, pain relief.”

 _Please, please. please._

Trev retched, her gut rebelling against her wishes. There was no holding it back. It came spilling out her clamped shut lips, down her gown and onto the sheets. A hand pressed against her back, rolling her to her side. “Let it out, it’s ok,” Cassandra’s voice steady and calm, her hand rubbing circles against her back. 

Fire searing the inside of her throat as she gave in. Tears pricked at her eyes, her body shuddered. It was a miserable experience. A piece of wet cloth dabbed against her lips, cleaning away the sick when she had nothing left. “I’m sorry,” she rasped. 

“No,” Cassandra said. It was just one word, but it was packed with so much guilt, Trev opened her eyes. The room was mercifully dark. Her blurry vision found Cassandra hovering over her. “Don’t ever apologise,” Cassandra went on. “It’s my—”

“Not today,” Trev interjected, “I can’t do this today.” If nothing else she had somehow made Cassandra feel worse. She didn’t have the energy to address it, between all the news today and this skull cracking headache, she had enough of this day. “I’m sorry, just not today.”

Cassandra nodded, jaw locked in a grimace. The nurse returned with medication which Trev swallowed gratefully. They changed her gown and the soiled sheets were stripped from the bed. Cassandra held her as she whimpered as every movement. When the bed was made, she curled onto her side, praying for swift relief.

“Would a cold compress help?” Cassandra asked. 

The nurse muttered something or other, Trev couldn’t catch it. The medication hadn’t even begin to put a dent into the pain, her thoughts no less frayed. 

“I have an ice pack, Haridin thinks it might help,” Cassandra said, her voice quiet, blunted by her guilt. It rolled off her in waves, sour and bitter mingling. 

Trev grunted and turned onto her back. Cassandra’s face hovered overhead, her eyes brimming with concern as she pressed a warm palm against her forehead for a bit, feeling her temperature. She sighed before resting the ice pack onto Trev’s forehead. Ice burnt like fire against her fevered skin, but it brought relief as well. 

“Sleep,” Cassandra whispered. 

Trev kept her eyes pinned on Cassandra stubbornly, trying to exorcise that fucking guilt from the Seeker’s face. She settled back into the chair. Trev turned her head in response causing the ice pack to slide off. A flicker of exasperation crossed Cassandra’s face as she shifted closer to the bed so that she could pin the ice pack against Trev’s forehead with her hand. 

“Trev, just sleep. I’ll take care of you,” she said.

“I know.” Trev allowed her eyes to flutter shut. “I know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	9. Once Upon A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They came, despite disappointment bowing their shoulders, colouring their gaze. It wasn’t just the golden haired man and the Antivan from yesterday. It was Bull the giant of a man with an easy smile that never quite reached his eyes, and Blackwall the one with a beard like a furry animal has died on his face. They tried to keep their faces neutral, even going as far as smiling fake smiles. Trev could see through it all, and it irked her. Her fucking head was still pounding away after an entire night of Cassandra dutifully icing her on and off every 15 minutes. Neither of them getting any sleep whatsoever. The medication didn’t put a dent in the bright white agony in her skull. 
> 
> Cullen and Josephine arrived bright and early just as the pain was beginning to ebb, and she actually able to doze. “Get the fuck out,” Trev growled when the yanking of the blinds, light spilling into the room was what woke her. Josephine’s face fell. Later, Trev regretted her words, but in that moment there was only anger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trev's awake but not all is well. Plans have to be made for her care but what does that mean?

They came, despite disappointment bowing their shoulders, colouring their gaze. It wasn’t just the golden haired man and the Antivan from yesterday. It was Bull the giant of a man with an easy smile that never quite reached his eyes, and Blackwall the one with a beard like a furry animal has died on his face. They tried to keep their faces neutral, even going as far as smiling fake smiles. Trev could see through it all, and it irked her. Her fucking head was still pounding away after an entire night of Cassandra dutifully icing her on and off every 15 minutes. Neither of them getting any sleep whatsoever. The medication didn’t put a dent in the bright white agony in her skull. 

Cullen and Josephine arrived bright and early just as the pain was beginning to ebb, and she actually able to doze. “Get the fuck out,” Trev growled when the yanking of the blinds, light spilling into the room was what woke her. Josephine’s face fell. Later, Trev regretted her words, but in that moment there was only anger. 

Cassandra jerked awake and hurriedly shoved the pair out of the room, explanations spilling from her lips. Sleep was impossible even though she was exhausted. She lay curled on her side, fearing the claws of the migraine returning. 

Josephine returned hours later with Cullen, joined by Bull and Blackwall after Cassandra had made sure she felt better. A nap and meal later, she was. “I’m sorry,” Josephine said, taking Cassandra’s usual chair. “I didn’t know.”

“Not your fault,” Trev muttered sullenly, the nap had left her feeling fuzzy. 

Cassandra cleared her throat pointedly as she folded her arms across her chest. She leaned against the far wall, but her gaze hot against Trev’s skin. Given the chance, Cassandra would have drilled a hole between her eyes with her gaze alone. Trev sighed. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

Josephine smiled, it was plastered on and false. “Isn’t it wonderful the fever isn’t troubling you any longer?”

Trev grunted, she shifted so that she sat little more upright. She felt like a corpse in a coffin with this rotating cast of visitors coming to see her. They were all mourning the loss of a woman they knew but she didn’t. It was infuriating. 

“Yeah, how wonderful,” she blurted, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Josephine shrank back as if slapped before mastering herself, her hurt smoothed over instantly with professional efficiency. Right, she was the Inquisition’s spokesperson. Trev felt bad but not bad enough to take back her words. 

“Boss, that’s not nice,” Bull said, peeling himself from the window to come up to the other side of the bed. 

“No, it’s not,” she admitted, the fire in her chest building again. She had just spent two whole hours with these strangers. They showed her photos of a woman that looked just like her but with more hair, with memories that weren’t scattered to who the fuck knew where. “But you know what’s not nice?”

Cassandra cleared her throat, her eyes shooting some sort of message at her. She was no longer leaning, no longer relaxed. Trev could guess what Cassandra wanted to say with all those glares, but she had enough. 

“What, Boss?” Bull asked, his gaze had turned hard and flinty. _He_ should know what he was unleashing. 

“Bull,” the man with the beard called out, Blackwall, yes she remembered. He stepped forward, his hand reaching out towards Bull. “Don’t.”

“Come on Boss tell us what else is not nice?” A challenge glinted in his eyes. 

Trev jerked her head up and glared at him with all the power she could muster from a hospital bed. “What’s not nice is all of you looking at me like I'm already dead.”

“Trev, enough,” Cassandra snapped, pushing past Cullen and Josephine to come to her side. 

Oh no, she wasn’t going to stop, she was just getting started. “What’s not nice is all of you looking at me like I came back wrong. Yeah sure, maybe I did. I don’t remember any one of you, only Cassandra.” She gestured at Cassandra who stopped short of being within arm’s reach. “It sucks for all of you, but it sucks for me too. I don’t need this. I don’t need any of this shit.” 

Stunned silence made her outburst. The monitor behind her beeped a low warning. Leven entered and stiffened at the tension in the room. She ignored everyone and pressed a stethoscope against Trev’s chest. Leven hummed and turned to the others. “I think visiting hours are over. Come back tomorrow.”

Nobody moved. Leven cleared her throat pointedly. That got everyone to finally move. Trev’s chest was heaving as she turned her gaze away. The blanket that covered her legs was infinitely more interesting the hurt her poison had inflicted. 

“Come on,” Cullen said, no doubt keeping close to Josephine. 

“Give me a second, Cullen,” Josephine whispered before pressing a gentle hand against Trev’s stiff shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Trevelyan.”

Trev nodded curtly, her fingers were busy with her blanket, crumpling the fabric in her hands. 

“Take care, Trevelyan,” Blackwall said, his voice gruff. “Come on Bull.”

Trev grunted in acknowledgement. She couldn’t tell if Blackwall was pissed off or not. He seemed immovable like a mountain. Bull took a couple of steps and then stopped. She didn’t need to look to know it. His sheer bulk cast a whole damn shadow over her blanket. “Boss,” his voice rumbled. “I’m sorry.”

Bull took his shadow and left. Cassandra followed. Trev could feel it, not because she spoke, not because her footsteps receded, but because the room grew colder. 

Then and only then, Trev lifted her head to look at the empty room. Leven was the only one still there. The nurse sighed. Trev shot her a sullen look, but the nurse remained unfazed. She was probably used to unruly patients like her. “It won’t always be this way.” Leven said, breaking the silence. 

“How would you know?” Her temper not quite leashed, her heart rate gearing up to race again. 

Leven sighed again. “I need you to calm down, you don’t want to trigger another migraine episode.” Trev shuddered. “I’ll get them to bring your dinner. You didn’t finish your lunch earlier. You should eat something.”

Trev remained silent, jaw locked tight lest she let poison fly again. Had she always been this way? The blackhole gaped back at her. She remembered a good chunk of her life, she was just missing the last five or so years. She shouldn’t have had changed that much right? Doubt gnawed at her. 

“Trevelyan, I’ve seen many patients in my career. Your recovery so far has been remarkable. You’re merely at the start of your recovery. It would be long, it would be hard, but you will get through it.”

Trev opened her mouth, ready to wield her words like a dagger, but Leven held her hands up. “All right, enough about that. Tomorrow is your MRI. I need to check if you’re claustrophobic. Will you prefer to do it under sedation?”

“I…” The words trailed off because she didn’t know what to say. “Am I? I don’t think so, but…”

Her breath quickened, her mood swung from anger to fear like a pendulum. She didn’t even realised her hands clenched tight untill Leven touched her hands. Flinching back, her eyes darted to Cassandra’s chair. It was empty. 

_She’s not here. Cassandra is not here._

Cassandra had left with the others because Trev drove them all away. 

“Trevelyan?” Leven called. Her voice was far away even as Trev tried to master her panic. 

“What’s happening? Am I dying?” Trev gritted out through a clenched jaw, her chest heaving but the air just wasn’t coming. “I…”

Before Leven could answer, the door opened. Cassandra returned. Her face was a stony plain of reined in anger. Her stride determined and grim as she approached. Trev’s eyes met hers. “Help.” 

The anger melted away instantly. She closed the distance, shooting a questioning look at Leven. Trev seized Cassandra’s out stretched hand, her grip was iron. 

“Trevelyan just breathe, follow my count,” Leven said. “Inhale.”

Trev’s eyes darted wildly all over. Cassandra’s hand was all that held her together lest she shattered to pieces — literally. Her breathing showed no sign of calming. The machine monitoring her heart rate beeped with ever increasing frequency. Leven muted the machine and nudged Cassandra.

Trev gasped for air, fingers digging into Cassandra’s hand. She was a flapping sheet in the wind. Cassandra’s touch, her grip was the only anchor that staked Trev to the immovable ground. 

“Trev, look at me.”

Cassandra’s voice was a second anchor holding her fast. The panic couldn’t take Trev, her control firmed up that much more. She locked eyes with Cassandra. A third held her fast to solid ground. Cassandra’s brown eyes were bright, filled with a sense of immediacy that nothing else had. 

“Do what I do.” 

Trev’s hands and feet were tingling, her chest shuddered, she wanted to puke. Her head hurt, and she was afraid the migraine was back again. Tears pricked her eyes. She wanted to listen, she wanted to do what Cassandra did, but it was impossible. Her body wasn’t listening.

“Trev, Trev, Trev,” Cassandra called, her voice were more ropes keeping her grounded, secure, safe. In one swift move, she sat on Trev’s bed and pulled her into a hug. 

Trev wrapped her arms instinctively around Cassandra. Cassandra was a solid shape she could hold onto, a warmth pressed against her chest. It was exactly what she needed. “Breathe, Trev. Breathe with me.”

Cassandra inhaled, a low and steady intake of air against her ear. She followed. Cassandra held her breath in. She did the same, feeling the hammer of Cassadra’s heart, regular and constant, against her own. Cassandra exhaled, hot breath tickling Trev’s skin. They repeated over and over. Leven counted the seconds between each cycle. Each one brought her gradually back to herself. 

By the time Trev let go, her arms were marked red by her own grip. She ducked her head as a flush crawled up her face. If shame had a colour, it was red and it rippled across her skin. She was a Marine of the Ostwickan Navy, how could this happened? She wanted to curl up and disappear, she was exhausted. 

“I’ll be back,” Leven said, “Don’t go anywhere, Cassandra.”

“I won’t.”

A familiar sigh came from the chair as air escaped from the seat’s cushion as it got depressed under weight. Trev risked a glance in Cassandra’s direction. Cassandra was watching her. There was no anger. She had expected Cassandra to ask about her panic attack, she had expected Cassandra to demand an explanation for her bad behaviour, but Cassandra only asked, “Are you all right?”

Trev could only nod. Leven returned with a tray of food. “Trevelyan, you need to eat this, as much as you can.” 

The tray was placed on a table and slid close to her. Oatmeal so wet it looked more like porridge, some pureed squash and a can of Ensure Plus. The first two had been some of her staple food since they had took the NG tube out. The last was a nutrient dense supplement formula. One quick glance at her offerings, she made a face. 

Leven frowned. “It’s either the food or the can of Ensure. Take your pick,” she informed. “Your MRI is tomorrow and I’m putting you down as needing sedation.”

Trev nodded meekly. It was probably the right choice. 

“Wait sedation?” Cassandra interjected. “Why?”

“It’s to calm her for the procedure. It can be overwhelming.”

“Then, we should wait till she feels better.”

Leven shook her head. “Dr. Peters is concerned with her migraines. We want to make sure there isn’t any bleeding or CSP leaks.”

Cassandra sighed. Worry knitted her brow. “So she’d have to fast?”

“Yes, please make sure she eats. She has already missed a couple of meals. She needs the nutrients.”

Cassandra nodded. “I’ll make sure.”

Leven swept out of the room casting a backwards glance at Trev. Silence descended like a blanket heavy but comforting at the same time. Trev leaned back and rested an arm across her eyes. She was all wrung out. Exhausted did not begin to describe it. Sleep dragged against her consciousness. 

A spoon scrapped against a plastic bowl. Squelches of something moist was being stirred approached. The sound made Trev’s gut churned uncomfortably. 

“Trev,” Cassandra called gently. 

She forced her breath to even out, allowing her mouth to go slack. Cassandra sighed and the squelches stopped. 

“Trev.” Cassandra’s breath quickened. “I know you’re not asleep.”

She didn’t move, opting to keep up with her pretence. 

“Lexington Trevelyan.” A hint of steel laced through Cassandra’s voice. 

Trev dropped her arm from her face, her eyes locked on Cassandra’s. The bowl of squash was hovering just in front of her. “Are you going to make me eat this?”

“Yes,” Cassandra jerked the bowl in her direction. “Even if I have to feed you, and you do not want me to.”

Trev made a face and accepted the bowl reluctantly. Under Cassandra’s watchful gaze, she ate. Relief was what settled against her chest, knowing Cassandra was still here despite her bad behaviour and foul temper. 

* * *

Cassandra watched the radiology nurse fussed with Trev’s IV, hooking her up to monitors that displayed her pulse, respiratory rate among other things. The cage fitted over Trev’s face blocking her from view. 

“Are you cold?” the nurse asked. 

Trev hummed. Her voice was a little husky like she was sleepy. “No.”

“All right, I need you to stay very still for this. It might be a little loud but we’ve given you earphones. I’ll play some music for you, all right?”

“Ok.” Another dampened response came from Trev. 

The sedative was doing its work. Trev had been nervous earlier. “Come on, you can wait in the other room with us,” the nurse said.

The entire thing took an hour. Cassandra returned to Trev’s room while the nurses monitored Trev in the recovery room. The blinds were drawn, the room was kept dim. They had determined her migraines were triggered by light. But the blinds weren’t just cutting the glare out, it was also blocking Trev’s link to the outside world as well. She was reduced to the 15㎡ room. Even as large and private as her suite was, it wasn’t the world. 

When would Trev be discharged to pick up the pieces of her life? Her memories locked away somewhere in her head, neural pathways once there now lost. They weren’t gone forever, new pathways could be forged, leading Trev back to memories she had in her all this time. There was still a lot of work to be done. Trev had a big decision to make soon. 

Cassandra glanced at her phone. Her calendar was marked off with dates and names of therapist scheduled to pay Trev a visit, to get her started on physical therapy. Trev would like that, it would also meant she could stop using the diaper and actually use the toilet. Something she had never stopped complaining about. 

The door opened and a gurney was pushed in. Trev’s voice drifting in. “I could have walked back on my own. It isn’t that far.”

The nurse sighed as if it was a topic of conversation for far too long already. “No you can’t, Ms. Trevelyan. Your muscles are not used to the work, not yet.”

“What about a wheelchair? I could have been wheeled over and then get on the bed myself.”

Cassandra got out of the way as the nurses unlocked the railing on Trev’s bed and adjusted its height so that it matched the gurney’s. “Now you can scoot over yourself,” the nurse said with relief. 

Trev looked somewhat dissatisfied at the turn of events but sat up and shifted her butt from one bed to the other. “It’s not the same. You can’t keep me prisoner here forever.”

“Nobody’s keeping you prisoner, Trev. You’ll see a mobility therapist today.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

“After lunch,” Cassandra confirmed. 

Lunch came and went quickly. Trev was impatient. For a while, Cassandra wondered if she was back at Skyhold, and Trev was nursing a hole in her gut after their disastrous trip to the Hinterlands. There was guilt then just as there was now, but the depth of difference were worlds apart. Trev had already forgiven her even as she was bleeding out then, maybe she would forgive her again. 

* * *

The pen clattered against the table again. Trev frowned, her shoulder tense, the furrow between her brow deep. “Try again.” Chen handed the pen back to Trev. 

Cassandra held her breath, waiting to see if Trev would make a repeat performance of her outburst the day before. The cords at her neck stood from the intensity of her concentration. Her white knuckled grip on the simple ballpoint pen wasn’t helping. 

The pen slipped off her hand, and it fell to the floor. Trev shoved the opened notebook away. She held her left hand with her right, clenching and unclenching the offending limb. The therapist didn’t speak. He retrieved the pen, pocketed it and entered notes into a tablet. 

“Let’s stop for today,” he said cheerfully. “I’m not too worried about the numbness you’re feeling, Ms Trevelyan. Numbness is common after a head injury like yours. In fact you’re doing much better than other patients with similar injury.”

Trev’s mouth opened, but she shut it with a clank two seconds later. She kept her eyes locked on her scarred hand. 

“I believe the numbness you’re experiencing is a combination of your brain injury and muscle weakness from your induced coma. With some exercises, the numbness should ease,” Chen went on, looking at his tablet. “I see you have a rather unique preexisting injury on your left hand.” 

Trev looked up, her focus intensified. “I do? Is that where the scar came from?”

Chen blinked. “Ms. Trevelyan, you are the Inquisitor.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. The muscle against Trev’s jaw flexed, her mouth fell opened, words stood ready at the tip of her tongue, ready to go forth and rend flesh from bone but Cassandra interjected. “Thank you, Chen. We’ll see you next week, I believe.”

“Oh there are exercises Ms. Trevelyan should be doing—”

Trev took a deep breath, her hands now flattened on the table. They were dangerously close to the notebook. It could well be turned into a projectile. 

“Yes, let me see you out. I think Trevelyan is tired from the session,” she said, grabbing Chen by his arm and near dragging him along. “Let me go to your office, and you can tell me about the exercises.”

* * *

The phenomenon that resulted in the explosion at the Scared Ashes was unheard of. It affected not just the surrounding area but the entire Thedas. Rifts formed everywhere. Trev survived it, but it made her condition and the nerve damage she suffered highly unique. She managed the pain mostly by wearing a hand brace. As far as Cassandra could tell, it didn’t hinder Trev’s work on or off the field. 

“I can’t say how much that injury might play into the new numbness,” Chen explained. “Her condition is extremely special.”

With his cautions and disclaimers ringing in her ears, Cassandra returned to Trev’s room. She stopped outside, hoping that Trev had calmed down. The physiotherapist was due tomorrow and hopefully it wouldn’t be a near miss like today. They would make the assessment for her mobility and that would determine how long Trev needed to stay in the hospital for. 

Days? Weeks? It was impossible to tell right now. 

Cassandra rapped her knuckles against the door and opened it when Trev didn’t respond. Trev was seated at her bed as usual, the tablet Josephine had brought from Skyhold set up in front of her. It was finally booted up. Her lower lip trapped between her teeth, a frown twisting her brow. She inhaled sharply and slammed the cover over the screen. In one swift action, she lifted the tablet in one hand, pulling it back ready to fling it across the room. No doubt it would made for an excellent workout for Trev, but Cassandra cleared her throat loudly. Trev stiffened, the motion arrested. She tossed the tablet to the other end of her bed instead, striking her own foot at the same time. 

Feeling sad and amused at the same time, Cassandra retrieved the tablet and placed it on the side table. The tablet had been a part of the Trev she knew, it was almost an extension of her body. She was never seen without it. Saving the device was like saving the woman she once knew, knowing that the Trev of the past would have been sad if she knew. Though the tablet was nothing but a source of ire right now, maybe it would one day it could be a bridge for Trev from the present to the past. 

Trev rubbed her foot, glaring at it like it was its fault for not getting out of the way. Cassandra didn’t speak, instead she adjusted the blinds though she didn’t need to. She made sure the jar of water was topped off, the water in Trev’s glass was tossed and refilled. When there was nothing else left to do, she settled back in her chair. 

Cassandra had fully expected Trev to toss her arm over her eyes and pretended to be asleep like she usually would when she was frustrated and trying to contain her temper. But she didn’t do that, she merely sat and stared at her hand. Cassandra’s chest clenched tight at the sight. Her stiff shoulders was cut through with a pain Cassandra could only imagine. Frustration and confusion etched across her face. For all of Cassandra’s prayers and good intentions, she could never bear this burden for Trev. 

Trev sighed. Her finger traced the scar that bisected her palm. Years since the Rift Incident, it still looked like it had barely healed. She winced, inhaling sharply as she rubbed the scar. 

“Does it hurt?” Cassandra asked, ready to call for the nurse. 

Trev took a shuddering breath and shook her head. “The feeling is coming back. It’s pins and needles now.”

Cassandra relaxed. “Do you want me to help? It will be easier with two hands rather than one.”

Mismatched eyes held her gaze. Unreadable, inscrutable but Cassandra had never been able to read people as well as Leliana could. Trev nodded, holding her hand out. Cassandra’s heart did a sideways lurch. She suddenly felt awkward “Let me wash my hands first,” she said, finding an odd need to stall.

Trev’s attention had refocused back on her hand when she returned. She brought the railing down and repositioned the chair so that she faced Trev. Trev thrusted her hand in her direction. She took it and studied Trev’s hand like it was the first time she saw. Trev’s palm was broad and wide, her fingers wide and a little stubby. These hands had seen work. The ridges of her palm were hardened, parts of her fingers rougher skin from old callouses. Cassandra directed her gaze to the scar. It was a little raised, the skin stretched over it pink and shiny. Her fingers hesitated, hovering just above the scar. 

“What’s wrong?” Trev asked, cocking her head at her. 

“Oh no, nothing.” Cassandra shook her and gently brushed a finger over it. She had never touched Trev’s scar before. It was smooth. “Does it hurt when I touch it?”

“No, not now anyway.”

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“I will.”

Cassandra kept a firm grip Trev’s hand within her own. A warmth settled in her chest. Trev’s hand was warm, it flexed and shifted with a will of its own. It was no longer limp, no longer completely studded with needles and monitors. She couldn’t help but smile. With even pressure, she pressed and manipulated Trev’s bones and joints, kneading her muscles and tendons. For a while that was all that existed Trev’s hand in hers and her ability to ease what discomfort Trev had.

“Have I always been like this?” Trev’s question was a bolt out of the blue.

Cassandra froze before continuing as if nothing was wrong. She knew what Trev was asking, but the answer she had was too cruel to speak. 

“No, maybe not always. At least I don’t think I was always like this. Unless…” Trev sighed, leaning back against her pillow. Cassandra lost her grip on Trev’s hand. Without something to hold onto Cassandra’s hands felt empty. “Have I changed?”

Cassandra swallowed, her throat went dry. Working out a way to tell Trev gently was difficult, talking _was_ difficult. Where was Leliana she needed her? Thankfully, Trev had her eyes trained elsewhere.

“I was so angry because I don’t remember the passcode to the tablet. I thought it was my birthday, but it’s not. I’ve tried all kinds of configurations, and it clearly isn’t it, but I can’t think of any other passcodes. And it just tells me to wait for longer and longer periods before I can try the next combination. I was going to throw that fucking thing if you haven’t stopped me.”

“I know.” 

“So,” Trev said, lifting her head so that their eyes meet. “How different am I?”

Cassandra sighed. 

“That bad huh?” A chuckle erupted from Trev’s throat, a dry and bitter sound. “I guess that’s why everyone looked so damn fucking sad.” There was no heat left in her voice, just a sort of emptiness. “Who was I? Just this Inquisitor person that somehow saved Thedas? I must look like such a fraud now huh?”

Trev’s eyes were shiny as she blinked quickly. Cassandra’s chest tightened as she looked at the slump in Trev’s shoulders, that hollow look in her eyes. She couldn’t let this stand. 

“Trev.”

She hummed, her eyes focused into the middle distance, her thoughts cast inwards. 

“Trev, look at me.” Cassandra repeated. 

Her head jerked up, tears were standing in her eyes. This was exactly what Peters had warned her about. The personality changes, the emotional fluctuation, mood swings, all of this were part of her injury, and she told Trev so. 

“Trev, you are not that angry person. That’s the side effect of your injury,” Cassandra straightened. “The Lexington Trevelyan I know is a helpful and cheerful person. She smiles in the face of adversity, laughs at the odds and pulls everyone together in her wake. The Inquisitor that I know is a fearsome leader, she never orders people to do what she isn’t willing to do herself. She single-handedly, figuratively and literally, closed the Rifts that threatened to tear Thedas apart while Orlais was busy trying to figure out how to step back from a civil war, the Chantry seized by indecision and infighting over who should be the next Divine and all other governments lacked the will to step in and help to fix the problem. The Trev I know threw herself in front of not one but two bullets, nearly killing herself in the attempt to save not just the Divine’s life, not just the Prime Minister of Orlais’ life, but my life too.”

“That person is gone,” Trev muttered, hand dashing the tears away, finding her blanket infinitely more interesting than their conversation. “I am not that person anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Cassandra stood, her words hurled out forcefully as if she could make Trev believe by sheer will. 

Trev frowned, the first twitching of anger returning. Cassandra refused to give in. She cupped Trev’s face, tilting it up so that their eyes met. Feather light brushes across Trev’s eyes as her fingers wiped the tears away. “You are still here.” Tapping her knuckle lightly against Trev’s forehead, highly aware that Trev was missing a piece of her skull. “It’s just all messed up, but it is all still there.”

Trev stared at her, her eyes seeking for something in Cassandra’s. Her nostrils flared as she took in shuddering breath after breath. Each one shook her shoulders harder as she tried to hold herself together. 

How much of this hurt was merely hidden away out of Cassandra’s sight before? How much of Trev’s doubts was masked by a confident smile so that the Inquisition could function while she agonised in private? How much of the Trev now was merely a tearing down of the forced cheer from before? 

“Can I…” Trev’s voice broke, and it only mortified her. That bit wasn’t new. The Inquisitor never liked showing weakness. She looked and played the part of the stoic ex-Marine Inquisitor well both on Josephine’s press photos and Sera’s more candid ones. 

“What is it?”

Trev couldn’t find the words, her voice refused to co-operate. Frustrated, she tossed the blanket aside and leaned towards Cassandra. Her arms pulled Cassandra towards her. Trev’s fingers dug painfully across her back as she buried her face against the crook of Cassandra’s neck, wrapping her in a crushing hug. Trev’s sobs shook through her body, her tears soaked into Cassandra’s shirt.

Cassandra worked her arms free and return the hug, realising the enomity of this gesture. Trev never, ever initiated hugs. A lump formed in her throat, she whispered, “You are still you. You’re still Lexington Trevelyan. You’re still my Trev.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	10. On Her Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trev stared at the helmet in the therapist’s hand. It was ugly. Shiny plastic, coloured in a bright blue, fitted with black straps that secured under her chin. She looked stupid, she knew she did, she didn’t need a mirror to tell her so. With her hair growing back in, bristles weren’t long enough to lay flat, not quite short enough to be a pleasing buzz cut, they felt like they were poking out of the holes of the helmet meant for ventilation. 
> 
> “Do I really have to wear this?”
> 
> Her therapist, Mayer, nodded. “Your brain isn’t protected by your skull, the helmet is doing the work of your skull right now,” Mayer replied. “As long as you are not sitting down on your bed, you have to wear it.”
> 
> “Why can’t they just put my damn skull back?” Her tone grew sharper. And by the grimace Cassandra was giving her, Mayer didn’t deserve her ire. It was, after all, for her own safety. 
> 
> Mayer’s smile grew fixed. “That’s for your neurologist,” he checked his records. “Dr. Peters to discuss with you. My job is to get you moving again and not suffer a terrible injury before you get your skull back. Do you want to get off that bed?”
> 
> “Fuck yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions still surround Trev and what it means to have continued care for her. Trev unmoored, unanchored and surrounded by strangers, she is lost. But an offer is made. 
> 
> Suffice to say the angst goes on, but it is taking a good turn because hey, Trev's getting discharged.

Trev stared at the helmet in the therapist’s hand. It was ugly. Shiny plastic, coloured in a bright blue, fitted with black straps that secured under her chin. She looked stupid, she knew she did, she didn’t need a mirror to tell her so. With her hair growing back in, bristles weren’t long enough to lay flat, not quite short enough to be a pleasing buzz cut, they felt like they were poking out of the holes of the helmet meant for ventilation. 

“Do I really have to wear this?”

Her therapist, Mayer, nodded. “Your brain isn’t protected by your skull, the helmet is doing the work of your skull right now,” Mayer replied. “As long as you are not sitting down on your bed, you have to wear it.”

“Why can’t they just put my damn skull back?” Her tone grew sharper. And by the grimace Cassandra was giving her, Mayer didn’t deserve her ire. It was, after all, for her own safety. 

Mayer’s smile grew fixed. “That’s for your neurologist,” he checked his records. “Dr. Peters to discuss with you. My job is to get you moving again and not suffer a terrible injury before you get your skull back. Do you want to get off that bed?”

“Fuck yes,” Trev admitted. “I want to use the damn toilet on my own.”

“So the helmet is the first step. Then, we’ll talk about using the bathroom on your own.”

Even though she wasn’t wearing a diaper any longer, using a bed pan and showering in bed got real old, real fast. She glared at the helmet again. Her eyes flicked to seek out Cassandra’s. Leaning against the window was Cassandra. The blinds hadn’t quite blocked out the gentle morning beams. The light struck the side of her face, highlighting the sharp plains of her checks and the line of her jaw. Those amber eyes were always watchful, not unlike a mother bear protecting her cubs. The soldier in Trev recognised how Cassandra had positioned herself so that she could keep everyone in view. The slight budge of a holstered pistol against her jacket. Probably an Eagle if she remembered correctly. Trev blinked. That stray bit of information slid into place like it was never gone. An instinctive knowledge that she wouldn’t question if she didn’t know she had amnesia. 

Cassandra smiled encouragingly, jerking her chin at the helmet. “Come on, I know you want off from the bed.”

“It is the first step towards getting you discharged and out of here,” Mayer pointed out.

Trev sighed and pulled it on. The foam cut out were snug around her head, comfortable enough for something that was measured to fit. She fastened the clasp with a click. “I look stupid.”

“Maybe you do, but you won’t know until you make it to the bathroom’s mirror,” Cassandra pointed out. Trev snorted, flipping her the bird. She laughed. “Come on, you got to do better than that.”

The therapist disengaged the barrier at the side of Trev’s bed, allowing her to swing her legs over. A rap at her door drew her attention. Cassandra opened it, a tension running across Trev’s shoulder. She didn’t relax until she saw it was Josephine and Cullen. She looked away, shame running through her skin. Trev concentrated on getting her feet down to the ground as Cassandra gave the others an update of her _progress_. She didn’t listen. It was progress that she didn’t see, all she saw were hurdles and failures. Here was just a new one. 

The tiled white floor was solid enough. It had been her goal to be freed from the bed, to get out of this room as long as it wasn’t to take her to yet another test, yet another MRI. Now, she’d settle to being able to stand, but when the first steps of freedom was upon her, she was suddenly seized with fear. 

_What if I fall?_

Mayer held his hands out and gripped her forearms. “Take it slow.”

The room stilled, every breath loud, everyone’s gazes intense. Trev’s toes hit the floor. She hissed. Cassandra took a step forward, reaching out. Trev shook her head. “These tiles are fucking cold.”

Cassandra relaxed again. Trev hadn’t put real pressure on her feet, her butt still rested against the bed. She held still and allowed her soles to get used to the temperature. 

“Now, put your weight on your feet,” Mayer instructed. “Slowly.”

From heel to toe, on both her feet at the same time, Trev planted herself. Her knees locked, her muscles corded, she wavered a little, held steady only by her grip on Mayer’s forearms. But she was standing. 

Trev grinned. Josephine gasped, a noise of pure happiness. “I knew you could do it,” Cullen cheered. 

Cassandra remained silent, but the gleam in her eyes spoke for her. Trev chuckled, a shaking little laugh of disbelief. 

“Now, shall we try a couple of steps?” Mayer asked. 

Trev set her jaw, tightening her grip on Mayer’s forearms and shuffled one foot forward and then the next. Each one bolstered her confidence, each one tasted like freedom. 

* * *

Mayer was happy with her status and promised to come back in a week’s time to evaluate her progress. “You’re lost less muscle tone than expected. Your condition prior to your injury, and the massages that you had while sedated has been a great factor.”

“Someone has been massaging me?” Trev asked as she gulped down water to quench her thirst. Sweat beaded across her brow. 

“Yes, it’s a common practise to keep comatose patients from losing too much muscle tone. I’d confer with the other doctors, but I think it’s looking good for you.”

“For my discharge?”

“Yes, with conditions of course.”

Trev grinned, feeling significantly better in weeks. Mayer walked her through the various exercises she needed to do before his next visit. Trev didn’t miss the nod Cassandra gave Mayer. If Cassandra was going to be her taskmaster, she knew there was no slacking off. 

“I knew you could do it,” Josephine said after Mayer left, patting Trev’s arm.

Trev resisted the urge to pull her arm away. Josephine meant well and maybe their relationship from before was close enough that these causal touches were normal. She unclipped the chin strap and pulled the helmet off. “Thank you.”

Josephine was a better read of expressions than she was, or her unease was just that obvious. Josephine released her arm instantly. Trev stretched her legs out in front of her. They were sore and aching. The entire session didn’t last very long, but she was more winded and tired than she had expected. Her stamina was shot to hell. Fuck, _she_ was shot to hell. 

“For you.” Josephine offering a tablet to her. 

Trev accepted it. It was a new one, newer than the old battered thing she still couldn’t unlock. _That one_ now resided at the bottom of the drawer of her side table. The sight of it infuriated her. 

The screen prompted her for a pass code. She glanced at Josephine but Cullen answered, ‘It’s just 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.”

“That’s not very secure,” Trev remarked, stabbing the screen. 

Cullen chuckled. “It’s not, but it’s meant to be easy to remember, but you should change it.” 

Inside was just a stock setup of a brand new tablet. “What’s this for?”

“Look at the Photos app,” Josephine suggested. 

Cassandra and Cullen stepped closer, clustering around her. Trev tapped through, and there were albums upon albums of photos. All of them labelled — ranging from a mundane “Cook off at Haven” to the fun and laughter of the “First successful prank by Sera” to the gruelling “Trek to Skyhold” and everything else in between.

Trev’s eyes widened. Inside each album were photos and videos painstakingly annotated with arrows labelling each and every single person caught in within the frame. Her face was found in many of them. A woman who laughed and smiled in some, stern and commanding in others, but she was present in every single photo, even if it was just the back of her head that was visible. 

“You did this all in just three days?” Cassandra asked. 

Josephine stifled a yawn. “I had help.”

“It’s just something for you to look at. Everyone who still works for the Inquisition contributed. Hopefully it will help to jog your memory,” Cullen explained. 

“If nothing else, you could use it to play some games if you’re bored,” Josephine pointed out. 

Trev studied the photos, picking out Cullen, Josephine, Iron Bull and Blackwall from the photos and videos. They were all there, soldiers-in-arms, comrades — fuck, maybe even friends. She looked for the black haired sharp eyed Seeker. Cassandra was almost always nearby, sometimes keeping a watchful eye out, other times looking indulgently as the others had fun. But mostly she scowled at the camera. 

“Why are you always frowning in these?” Trev asked. That earned her a not dissimilar frown now. She laughed. 

Cassandra groaned. “I never look good in photographs. I’m always look funny.”

Josephine smiled. “I have something else.” 

“More presents?” Trev blinked as Josephine slid a notebook and pen onto the table. Trev ran her hand over the cover. It was a simple hard bound notebook that lay flat on the table after she flexed the spine a couple of times. The pen was a regular gel ink retractable one. The slide was smooth and the click solid. This was a nice set. 

“You always used to journal on your tablet, but the therapist wants you to exercise your hand to get rid of the numbness, so I thought why not marry the two together.”

The pages were smooth and printed in a dot grid pattern, exactly the way she preferred it. Trev sighed, regretting her tantrum a few days ago. Guilt soured her tongue. How could she forget her friends? Even now, she couldn’t reconcile the fact Josepine and Cullen were among her closest friends. Those friendships were five fucking years old. Now it had fell into a black hole. This must have been galling for them. 

“Josephine, Cullen,” she called. The right thing to do was to comfort them with a touch on their shoulder or their arm, but she was still uncomfortable about it. She settled for a weak smile. “Thank you for everything. I’m sorry for my behaviour the other day.”

* * *

Cassandra could tell Trev was fading. Her gaze had glazed over, but she was still doing her best to pay attention. It wasn’t unlike the early days of the Inquisition. Trev was a soldier not a celebrity then. Who could expect her to get use to the fame her sudden elevation as the sole survivor brought? Handling being the public face of the Inquisition and acting as the leader of the militia was foreign to her. Dorian or Vivienne on the other hand would have taken to it like a fish to water, but not Trev. She tried, she always tried, even if the task was distasteful or just plain incomprehensible, like right now. 

“So let me get this right.” Trev squeezed the bridge of her nose. “You’re asking me if we should get Harding…”

“Yes, Harding, Lace Harding. She is our field investigator,” Cullen said. 

“Harding has found a Rift?”

“Not quite, but it’s a strong possibility. Harding is requesting for more funding and personnel so that she could secure the area and investigate properly.”

“That’s straightforward enough.”

“But currently we lack the funding,” Josephine interjected. 

From there the conversation went down the convoluted rabbit hole of donations, leveraged favours and implied support. Even Cassandra’s attention was drifting. Flagging stamina aside, Trev was doing her best to understand what took her a good year to be good at. She was starting from scratch again while still recovering right now. 

“But why are you asking me?” Trev asked eventually. The furrow between her brow had deepened, but it wasn’t from anger, this was something else. 

“Because you’re the Inquisitor, because,” Cullen laughed shakily. “Because I don’t know how to do this.”

“I was making all these decisions before?”

Josephine and Cullen nodded. Trev winced, angling her body away from the window. “So it is between sending Harding in with insufficient support, consigning the refugees to an indeterminate length living in a camp while the local government all but have forgotten about them, or sending Harding in _with_ support, but we are drawing on resources we do not have and we would have to consider letting people go because we can’t pay them. And this means scaling back on the good we can do for the refugees?”

They nodded again. 

Trev sighed. “This is a mess.”

“Tell me about it,” Cullen said. “I don’t know how you’ve been doing this for so long. Your job is impossible.”

“And even if Harding found the Rift and secured the area, nobody can do anything until I go down and fix the mess.” She rubbed her temples. 

Cassandra stood and adjusted the blinds. The afternoon light was bright, and it was reflecting across the glass panel buildings across the street. Far better she head off a migraine if Trev wasn’t already having one. 

“This isn’t something you can fix right now,” she interjected. “There might be a third solution. Cullen, why don’t you talk to Bull? He might know people who can help, people he had vetted in any case. Josephine, talk to Leliana? The Chantry can help with the funding, with this one thing if not more.”

Trev grunted, her head bowed, her voice low. “Good idea. Why aren’t you the Inquisitor?”

“Cassandra used to be your second in command,” Cullen supplied. 

“Oh, why did you stop?” Trev looked at her, curiosity and the glaze of pain turning her gaze soft. “Did I piss you off so badly?”

“She become the Right Hand of the Divine,” Josephine replied. 

“Oh so it’s Leliana’s fault then?” Trev frowned. “Did I get her name right?”

“Yes, you did,” Cassandra sighed. “And she’s the Divine, so be respectful.” She turned to the others. “I think Trev’s tired.”

Trev opened her mouth to protest, then she winced and pressed her fingers to her head. “Yeah, tired. Got to…” she hissed, eyes squeezed shut. 

Cassandra wrapped a hand across her shoulders. Trev stiffened before she realised it was Cassandra. Just like that the tension eased from her corded muscles, allowing Cassandra to guide her to lie down. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Cullen started. “I just unloaded onto you. I shouldn’t have…”

Trev waved a hand at them, her eyes opened a slit. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I can’t help.”

Josephine and Cullen said their goodbyes. They were heading back to Skyhold, promising to hold down the fort while she recovered. Doubt and uncertainty went unspoken, lingering in the air like a foul smell. Cassandra informed the nurse on shift, and the nurse promised to be back with some pain relief. 

Cassandra returned with an ice pack to aid Trev’s poor attempt at sleep. The room was as dark as it could be. But there would be no rest if Trev didn’t get some kind of pain relief. Multiple episodes of migraine had taught Cassandra that much. As long as Trev wasn’t throwing up from the pain, it would be a victory. 

“Ice pack,” she warned. 

  
Trev grunted and shifted so that Cassandra didn’t have to stretch too far. “You can bring the railing down. I’m not a child,” Trev pointed out. “I won’t fall off the bed.”

“It’s not regulation to do so.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Cassandra sighed conceding to Trev’s logic. “After you get your medication.”

As she iced Trev’s forehead, a constant 15 minutes on, then 15 minutes off, listening to Trev’s steady breath. She realised it was the most wonderful sound in the world. A strange sort of ache took hold in her chest. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t _not_ hurt either. She was grateful for this time the Maker allowed her to care for Trev. This was only right. Even though it didn’t mean she was any less responsible for Trev’s injury, even though it didn’t mean Trev should forgive her, she was contented in a way she haven’t been in a long time. Looking at Trev’s uncreased brow, fingers brushing against Trev’s growing bristly hair, this could be enough. It _was_ enough.

* * *

“Next week?” Trev asked. They were in Peters’ office getting the results of her latest MRI report. 

Peters nodded. “You’re well enough to be discharged. I don’t see any reason to keep you here any longer. You can continue your rehab at a medical facility of your choice. I can provide referrals if you prefer. It doesn’t have to be at Maker’s Mercy. I’m assuming you’re returning to Skyhold, there’s an excellent facility in the Frostbacks. I can make my recommendations.”

Trev blinked. She hadn’t considered this in all her efforts to get the fuck out of the hospital. Where would she go? Skyhold? It seemed like the logical choice according to everyone else. Everyone was moving along as if it was a given. But Skyhold felt foreign. She could go back to Ostwick to her father’s house. The thought made her recoil. The fact he hadn’t so much as called was answer enough. Maybe Haven? _Shit, does my apartment at Haven still exist?_ It _had_ been five years. She couldn’t have been paying rent for all this time right? Her GI bill definitely did not stretch that far. _Am I even still a student at Haven University?_

“Trev,” Cassandra’s voice broke through her spiralling thoughts. Her warm hand somehow burning Trev’s back. “Are you all right?”

She swallowed and noticed Peters adding another few sentences into her file, his lips pursed thoughtfully. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“It’s not something you have to decide now, Trevelyan,” Peters pointed out. “You still have time to prepare. For the foreseeable future even after you’ve been discharged, you’ll have various appointments to keep up with. You will be continuing your sessions with Mayer and Chen. I’m recommending you to see another therapist.”

Trev frowned. “But I already have the two.”

“A psychotherapist,” Peters replied.

Anger flared to life in the pit of her gut. “What just because I was a little overwhelmed just now?”

“No, no this is standard for all patients with your injuries.”

“Because I got shot in the head that makes me crazy?”

“Trevelyan, it’s normal to be overwhelmed. It takes time for your brain to re-calibrate itself, but you should be evaluated in any case.”

Trev’s eyes flashed pushing herself up from the wheelchair she was sitting on. “I’m done here. I’m fucking done here.” She took her first few wobbly steps, heedless of her joints protesting the sudden motion. Despite regretting her rash decision, she stubbornly fought her way towards the door. 

Cassandra intercepted her. “Trev, please.”

“I’m going to fucking walk back on my own. I don’t need any of this. Not the fucking wheelchair, not any fucking therapists. I don’t want to be here any more,” she growled, resisting the urge to punch the door as she yanked it open. 

Trev didn’t care what went on between Cassandra and Peters. Looks were surely exchanged, but Cassandra didn’t let her get very far. Folding the infernal wheelchair up took Cassandra but a few seconds. Cassandra’s motion was fluid, easy, effortless, unlike hers. Her muscles were already trembling just from the tens of steps she had taken. Her room was a couple of levels away, the elevator might as well be miles away. She wasn’t going to make it, she knew it, but she didn’t care. The anger would sustain her until it didn’t.

Trev forced herself on. Her lungs heaving with the effort, sweat pouring down her brow, her ass flapping in the wind thanks to the stupid medical gown she was forced to wear. Cassandra, for her part, didn’t speak. She didn’t even ask if Trev wanted to rest. Ever watchful, arms ready for any stumble, she just followed. When Trev got into the elevator, she braced herself against the supports, shame burnt up her face as she finally gritted out, “I need the chair.”

Cassandra readied it without a word, allowing Trev to ease herself into it. “Thank you,” she whispered, her anger burnt away with the physical exertion. 

Cassandra’s amber eyes spoke for her. Words weren’t needed. Frustration, exasperation but behind it all guilt. It was there and quickly shoved aside again. The elevator dinged when it got to her floor, and Cassandra wheeled her back to her room in silence. 

Trev got herself back into the bed. Cassandra left the room, giving her space, but not before drawing the blinds shut. It turned what was a bright sunny day outside into the dimmest of evenings, with only a hint of the world beyond peeking through the gaps between the stats of the blinds. That was what she had become — a shadow, to be hidden away. Trev’s jaw tightened at the thought. Her breath grew laboured. The anxiety had returned. As the prospect of returning to Skyhold swirled, the harder she breathed. She stared at the door, wishing it would open, and Cassandra would just come back. 

Fingers crumpling her blanket, her chest heaved even as she fought for control. She might be able to be discharged in a week, but there was no way she could live on her own, not when a simple walk had tired her out like this. What about money? Could she afford her care in the hospital so far? What about the on-going therapy sessions or all the new medication she needed now?

“Trev?”

Her eyes snapped open. Did she fell asleep? For a moment, her hands jerked up, curling into fists ready to defend herself. 

“It’s me, Cassandra.”

As her vision cleared, she relaxed, half wondering why she reacted this way. “Sorry, I was just…”

“It’s my fault, I’ve startled you,” Cassandra reassured, her eyes soft and gentle. “I have something to show you.”

Trev blinked her nap from her eyes, sitting up. Cassandra twisted the laptop to face her. It was a spreadsheet filled with numbers, but they didn’t mean anything to her. Confusion was written all over her face because Cassandra explained, “These are your assets. Bank accounts and what’s in them.”

“They don’t look like a lot.” The creeping anxiety returned. 

“It’s not,” Cassandra admitted. 

Was she going to be forced to go to Skyhold? Even though Josephine, Cullen and the others would welcome her — at least she hoped so — she didn’t know them. They had met twice, one ended in a disaster. Her breath hitched. 

Cassandra touched her shoulder, and she flinched. “Trev, hey, it’s okay.”

Trev nodded but was still fighting to take gulps of air. Cassandra put the laptop away and held her shoulders. Step by step, Cassandra guided her through the breathing exercises like the last time. When her ribs expanded like it should, she offered Cassandra a weak smile. It was the best she muster. 

Trev had been looking forward to getting out of the hospital. Now she wasn’t so sure. “I hope I have enough to pay for all of this.” She lifted a hand to gesture at her private room realising how much this all must cost. 

“You don’t have to worry about your bills. Your insurance covers it, anything else that it wouldn’t will be paid for by the Chantry and Government of Orlais.”

Her eyes widened instantly. “Really?”

“Yes, I’ve spoken to Leliana. Vivienne had gotten in touch as well. You were hurt in service of the Divine, her Right Hand—” Cassandra grimaced, looking away for the moment, before turning back. “—and the Prime Minister of Orlais. It’s only right.”

Trev breathed a little easier, but it didn’t sit right. “But… I can’t just let you all pay for it. I mean…”

“Trev, it’s fine. Please let us do this.” The strength of Cassandra’s gaze made her stop protesting. 

“Okay,” she sighed, leaning against her pillows. “I guess I have to go to Skyhold then. I don’t happen to have an apartment here in Val Royeaux right?” A weak chuckle rattled through her chest. 

“Do you really want to stay here?” Cassandra asked, her voice small. 

“Here? This room?”

“No, Val Royeaux, I mean.”

“Well,” Trev looked towards the windows and realised the blinds were drawn. She scowled at it for a moment before turning back to Cassandra. She studied that strange almost hopeful gaze in Cassandra’s eyes. “I would like to but I obviously—” She grimaced at the admission. “—can’t live on my own. I can’t even fucking cook. My squad used to say my food taste like poison, you know that?”

Cassandra’s lips spread in a tight smile at her joke. 

“I just don’t want to go to Skyhold, you know? I don’t really know anyone there. All I have are memories of my time in the Marines and my childhood. Am I still friends with any of my squadmates? They certainty weren’t still be living in Val Royeaux themselves. Skyhold holds nothing for me. I don’t remember anything about it. My five years are all but gone, all that’s left of it is you.”

Cassandra inhaled sharply through her nose, her nostrils flaring. “You have more than just me. You have Bull and Blackwall. Those who have called you weekly, Sera and Varric. You even have friends in high places, Vivienne the Prime Minister of Orlais and Dorian a minister in the Tevinter government. Maker, Leliana is the Divine—”

“But I don’t know them,” Trev retorted. “I don’t remember anything about them. I have photos and videos, but they don’t tell me what they are like. Do they drink tea? Or do they prefer coffee? Are they a night owl? Or are they up at the crack of dawn? Photos don’t fill five years for me.” 

She looked away, her hands reached up to scratch across her scalp only to stop when Cassandra cleared her throat. Right, she was missing a part of her skull. Her arms fell to her lap, flexing without anything to do. 

“I know you. You’re a morning person. You train at the range whenever you’re able. You enjoy your coffee straight, without sugar or milk because its purpose is to wake you up. Tea is something you drink for pleasure, sweetened with sugar and milk to your tastes.” Her confession was barely a whisper. 

Cassandra inhaled sharply. Her breath kept deliberately slow and steady as she fought her surprise. Her fingers twitched where they were resting on her thighs. “Trev, would you.” She cleared her throat again. Words were lodged in it, she was having a hard time to work them free. A blush crawled up her neck, peeking out from the collar of her usual white long sleeved shirt, always rolled up to her elbows. The muscles of her forearm rippled under her skin as she clenched her fists. “Would you prefer to come live with me?”

Trev blinked. “You have done so much for me as it is. You’ve been here with me day and night.” Words poured from her mouth. “I can’t imagine that’s how you want to spend your time. I can’t—”

“Trev.” 

Her eyes snapped to Cassandra’s. Nothing exist in that space between breaths but Cassandra and herself. Her pulse throbbed hard against her ears. 

“Would you prefer to come live with me?” Cassandra’s fingers dug into Trev’s shoulders as she tightened her grip. 

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Trev nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


	11. Old Memories Made New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re taking a leave of absence?” Leliana asked, studying the application on her laptop. Surprise flashed in her eyes as they were directed at Cassandra
> 
> “I know I’ve been assigned to Trev as her bodyguard while she is hospitalised, now that she has a discharge date,” Cassandra explained, somehow feeling a mix of giddiness and apprehension at the prospect of Trev living with her. “I’ve offered to let her move in with me until she is done with rehab.”
> 
> Leliana’s eyes widened, comprehension took over. She smiled. It was one Cassandra recognised. A prey had stepped into her trap. And the Divine was one who set many, even for people she considered friends. 
> 
> “Yes, that’s probably for the best. I’ve heard of the tantrum she threw.”
> 
> “That wasn’t a tantrum,” Cassandra cut in, her voice louder than strictly needed. “Trev can’t help herself. Personality changes isn’t uncommon given her injury.”
> 
> “Cassandra,” Leliana called, straightening in her seat. The large window behind her allowed the morning sun into her office, creating a halo around her head. The effect was probably calculated when Leliana picked this room to be her office. “I’m denying your leave of absence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, we're half way through already! Time files!!

“You’re taking a leave of absence?” Leliana asked, studying the application on her laptop. Surprise flashed in her eyes as they were directed at Cassandra

“I know I’ve been assigned to Trev as her bodyguard while she is hospitalised, now that she has a discharge date,” Cassandra explained, somehow feeling a mix of giddiness and apprehension at the prospect of Trev living with her. “I’ve offered to let her move in with me until she is done with rehab.”

Leliana’s eyes widened, comprehension took over. She smiled. It was one Cassandra recognised. A prey had stepped into her trap. And the Divine was one who set many, even for people she considered friends. 

“Yes, that’s probably for the best. I’ve heard of the tantrum she threw.”

“That wasn’t a tantrum,” Cassandra cut in, her voice louder than strictly needed. “Trev can’t help herself. Personality changes isn’t uncommon given her injury.”

The smile slid off Leliana’s face. She nodded solemnly. “Trevelyan paid the price for us.”

“For my failure.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed the Divine’s eyes, but Cassandra noted she made no objection. She took a sharp breath. “Regardless, we will see her through her recovery, no matter how long it takes.”

Cassandra nodded, her mind jumping a couple of steps ahead, mentally noting down an ever-growing list of things she had to prepare before Trev was discharged. Seven days to prepare felt like nothing at all. She hadn’t returned to her apartment beyond picking up fresh clothes and clearing out her mail box to make sure it didn’t pile up. Even then these visits were few and far between. 

“Cassandra,” Leliana called, straightening in her seat. The large window behind her allowed the morning sun into her office, creating a halo around her head. The effect was probably calculated when Leliana picked this room to be her office. “I’m denying your leave of absence.”

“But why—”

“This,” she said, lifting a finger to forestall Cassandra’s protests. “This is still part of your job as Trevelyan’s guard. I’m sure you’ve heard from Bull that the investigation had somewhat stalled.” In fact Cassandra had heard nothing of the sort. Bull had been tight-lipped about the entire affair. But she nodded. “I’m including a stipend to your salary to make sure Trevelyan’s needs are taken care of, but I can’t maintain the same around the clock two guard team like before. You can have your pick of three guards. I’ll have Blackwall handle the rotation. I don’t think you want to set them up in your apartment.” Leliana frowned as if realising something. “Are you?”

“I…” Cassandra hadn’t considered things that far.

Leliana waved a hand between them as if dismissing the question. “I’ll suggest setting them up in a car outside your building. Discretion will be the key here. Trevelyan might be famous but with her injuries, her appearance may have changed enough that most wouldn’t be able to recognise her.”

Trev hadn’t enjoyed the attention before she was shot. Now that she didn’t remember Cassandra couldn’t see how she’d enjoy it any better. Between Sera, Varric and Josephine, they had made her into a celebrity, one that’s known to both young and old, popular among the general populace. Cassandra couldn’t help but think they had done their job a little too well. 

“Yes, discretion is key.” Cassandra rose from her seat. “I will make the arrangements with Blackwall.” 

The Divine nodded at her acknowledgement, standing as well. “If there is anything else you need, let me know. I don’t intend to have Trevelyan go wanting for anything.”

“Trev would appreciate this.” Pressure eased from Cassandra’s shoulders. She had a plan of action, at least the beginnings of one. “Leliana, thank you.”

* * *

Cassandra wondered what Trev thought of her absences in the week leading up to Trev’s discharge. She had forwarded her choice of guards to Blackwall. He promised to get them assigned to their new duties, requisitioning a car for their use, along with scouting out the area, securing it for Trev’s arrival. She had complete faith in Blackwall, but it just wasn’t the same as doing it herself. However, there was so much to do in so little time. 

Toeing off her boots at the door way, Cassandra dropped her keys into the small wooden bowl she kept near the counter. She stared at the state of her place and sighed. “This won’t do.”

The place was a mess. The package she had picked up from the post office was carefully placed on the counter next to her keys. Fresh groceries loaded in reusable bags hanging off her arms were dropped off on her dining table. Running a finger over the nearest surface, in this case said dining table, she grimaced. It came off with a layer of grey dust. Pushing her fringe back from her forehead, she broke out the vacuum and mop, and set about her work. It was probably naive to think all she needed to do was to change the sheets on her spare bed. 

In the weeks leading up to the ceremony, she had been opted to sleep in the barracks as she drew up plans after plans, running through contingencies after contingencies. She had neglected her home for months now.

It was nearly evening by the time she was done, but everything was passably clean now. As tempting as it was to sink into the sofa and not get up, she needed a shower and a meal. Glancing at the package, she pulled the pocket blade she always carried and opened it. Pulling the plastic wrapping apart, she held the item in her hand. She smiled. Hopefully Trev would like it, picking this out was somehow more nerve wrecking than any combat missions she had been on. Carefully, she tucked it back into the box after a thorough inspection.

Towelling her hair dry, she called out to her phone. “Hey Siri, call the Inquisitor.” Her phone chimed and a dial tone played over the speaker. 

The dial tone went on and on, longer than normal. Worry took hold as she dropped the towel onto her laundry hamper. As she debated putting on a jacket and driving over to Maker’s Mercy, the dial tone stopped. Instead of seeing Trev’s face, all she got was a flickering shadows and a blurry view of Trev’s room as a pair of hand fumbled for the phone. 

“Damn it, stupid fucking phone,” Trev cursed somewhere off to the side. 

Cassandra chuckled and waited, perched on the edge of her bed, she held the phone up to her face. It took a couple more seconds of fumbling before Trev turned on a light and picked up the phone. “Hey,” Trev greeted, a little breathlessly, her left hand still wrapped in a brace pressed against her chest. 

“Were you sleeping?” 

Trev shook her head. “I just forgot I was charging this thing and couldn’t find it for a while, then I yank on the phone taking the cord and plug off the wall. Then I was trying to get the phone the right way around to accept the call but working with my dominant hand in a brace is not the easiest thing to do in a dark room.”

“You should have unplug it earlier,” she said. She tried and failed to keep the smile off her face. 

“In hind sight, yeah.” Trev scratched at her head. 

Cassandra groaned, and Trev pulled her hand away. “How’s the hand?”

“It’s better, just worse at night,” she replied, waved her braced hand at Cassandra. “The brace helps.”

This was the existing injury Chen had spoken about. With a couple of weeks of focused exercises, the numbness faded. Though muscle weakness was still a lingering problem for Trev, it would improve with more physiotherapy. The old pain Trev had before flared to life a couple of days ago. Pain relief took the edge of things, but it exhausted her. Even now, Cassandra could see the shadows around her eyes. 

“Do you want me to go back?” she asked, her earlier amusement faded. Even though there was nothing she could do for Trev, being near ease her worries.

Trev yawned, raising her hand to rub her eyes only to scratch her face with the brace. “Damn it,” she cursed. “It’s fine. You look all ready for sleep anyway. Just come get me tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day. Trev was going to be discharged. She’d be living with Cassandra. Her offer was genuine and made without reservations, but she was excited and scared all at the same time. If Trev needed more help than she know to give, she would research and learn. But what if Trev couldn’t stand living with her? What if Trev changed her mind? 

“Stop that,” Trev muttered, one eye pressed shut against the pillow the other took on a sleepy haze. The phone was balanced at an angle. “You’re worrying again. Just remember to come get me tomorrow. Don’t leave me stranded here.”

“I won’t.” 

Cassandra watched, eyes soft and an odd smile perched on her lips. This was bliss or as close as she came to since the shooting. The relaxed line of Trev’s jaw, her one open eye slowly sagging shut might not be what she had expected to find comfort in, but it seemed this was what the Maker had seen fit to give her. Regrets still filled her chest if she thought about her reaction all those years ago. She had overreacted and almost broke their friendship. She had been unkind and harsh, if she could take them back, she would. However, time ever flowed one way. With the way things stood, she was happy and contented to be allowed to have a good friend in Trev. 

A soft snore came from Trev’s end of the line, the phone had fell into its side, turning the screen to face the ceiling. All Cassandra could hear from Trev’s steady breathing. “Good night,” she whispered, leaving the call connected for as long as she could as sleep found her as well. 

* * *

“What’s this?” Trev asked, looking the paper bag Cassandra handed her. 

“A celebratory present,” Cassandra replied, opening the drawers and checking everything was emptied out. 

Trev peeked inside. Whatever it was it was wrapped in plain brown paper, very functional. Much like the woman giving her this gift. She smiled and pulled it out. It was almost cute in the way Cassandra was sneaking glances at her. Trev took her own sweet time scratching with her fingernail at the tape to remove it cleanly, unwilling to just rip the wrapping apart. Cassandra groaned, and she sniggered. 

When she had finally unwrapped the box and opened it, her jaw went slack. It was a cap, but it was heavy like her helmet. “Is this?”

Cassandra abandoned her circuit of the room’s cupboards and side tables to come to her side. “It’s a discrete helmet. I thought since you hated yours, I had this one picked out with Dr. Peters’ help. Do you like it?”

Her eyes wide and earnest as awaited Trev’s judgement. The new helmet for all intent and purposes looked just like a cap except it had a chin strap like her old helmet. The fabric was a discrete black. 

“I didn’t think going for a red would be fitting for a person who is technically a target for death threats,” Cassandra explained. “But if you don’t like it I can get it exchanged for something else.”

Trev put it up and clipped the strap on. The fit was just right. Without waiting, she stood and walked into the bathroom. Her legs weren’t wavering any longer, but she did still tired out way too easily. Right now she wanted the mirror. Cassandra followed hurriedly. Trev looked at her reflection. The cap covered the unruly short hair that was growing back in, hiding the red scar that covered one side of her head. 

“So do you like it?” Cassandra asked, doubt colouring her eyes. 

Trev grinned. “It’s great. I love it. Thank you.”

Her lips split to a smile that matched Trev’s. For a while, they just looked at each other, smiling like two school kids. Trev stuck a pose, gesturing towards her clothes, a black tank top and zip-up hoodie, paired with a pair of black sweat pants and sneakers. “I match.”

Cassandra grimaced. “Yeah, I think I need to take you shopping for clothes. This is the best I’ve managed. They are all standard issue for new Templar recruits.”

“I gathered,” she laughed. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m eager to see my new quarters.”

* * *

Trev managed the walk from the car to the elevator just fine. She glanced over her shoulder. Cassandra walked easily with the weight of her small bag of meagre belongings, wheeling a wheelchair along. “Are you tired?” she asked when she noticed Trev looking. 

The scowl made Cassandra laughed, and Trev couldn’t help but smile at the sound. It was a deep rich sound that was let loose freely without reservations, evoking a warmth in her chest. “I can manage the walk to your flat.”

As the elevator stopped at the sixth floor, the door opened to reveal a corridor lined with six other ones. “Last one?” Trev asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Cassandra replied, thrusting the wheelchair in her direction, her offer plain. 

“No,” Trev refused stubbornly. “It’s not _that_ far.”

In the drive towards Cassandra’s flat, Trev sat in the car feeling excited and giddy. Though she was told she had visited Orlais before as Inquisitor, she was observing everything with new eyes. Her mind threw random information in her direction as she gazed at the landmarks sweeping by the car. Cassandra dutifully called out every single one she pointed at. When Trev managed to provide a tidbit or two from the newly forged neural pathways to old memories, it was always met with a smile that turned Cassandra’s eyes into crescent moons. 

The apartment building was nestled among other similar buildings. The entire little estate was lined with trees, forming a green barrier between the road and this section of flats. The carpark was situated at the basement, but it wasn’t enclosed. If Trev looked up she could see the living quarters towering overhead. The few available lots were a distance from the elevator which explained the lengthier walk towards the elevator. But with the elevator serving every level, that meant there were no stairs to climb.

“Open sesame,” Trev ordered the locked door. 

Cassandra sighed and dropped the bag to the ground. Trev shifted out of the way. “Ladies first,” Cassandra said as she pushed the door opened, allowing Trev to head in. 

Trev snorted. “I’m no lady. I’m a fucking badass Marine.”

“Fair.” Cassandra picked the bag up. “Come on, let’s go in.” Her shoulders were tense as she glanced down the corridor. 

Trev frowned, remembering she was almost assassinated which was what prompted this entire thing. That particular bit of information bounced off her brain and didn’t surface any new random tidbit of knowledge. Still, she was a Marine and had served for a good five years. Her training survived even the bullet to her head. Even though the corridor was empty, she understood Cassandra’s caution. 

She stepped in, toeing off her sneakers and padded onwards in socked feet. It was sparse, not quite spartan but minimalistic. She could see Cassandra in every inch of the space. Functional wood furnishings dominated. Fresh white curtains were already drawn, halving the glare of the afternoon sun. A yellow sofa positioned to take advantage of the sun, if Trev had to guess the sofa was probably stain and wrinkle free. A miracle all by itself. A rack of free weights along with an exercise mat took up a corner. Finally, a dining table with two bright yellow chairs took up the rest of the living room. The table had a laptop and papers stacked neatly on it, probably seeing more use than the sofa ever did. Oddly, there was no TV in sight. 

Cassandra entered, folding the wheelchair up, leaving it at the doorway. She slipped off her shoes and deposited them into the cabinet nearby. Keys went into a bowl with a clatter.

“Where’s my room?” Trev asked eagerly. 

Cassandra took the lead, pointing out the small kitchen with an adjoining laundry area, showing her where one of the bathrooms was. There was a tiny storeroom where Cassandra stored her weapons and random household appliances. When they came to a short corridor with two doors facing each other. She opened the door and pointed. “This is my room.”

Trev peered in. It had a small bed and a wardrobe pushed up to the corner. A bookcase half filled with books and an arm chair took up the rest of the small space. The furnishings were older here, all of them mismatched, unlike the rest of the living room. “Your room?”

There was no personality there, just ordinary furniture thrown together haphazardly. These looked like furniture Cassandra had been lugging around since her university days if the condition of the arm chair was anything to go by. 

Cassandra touched her elbow, drawing her attention. “This is your room.”

The door swung open and Trev inhaled. The bed was larger. It had a solid wooden frame with sheets of light earth tones and somehow almost overflowing with pillows. A chest of drawers stood at the foot of the bed. The side table was already set up with charging cords. The walls were lined with more books than wall as far as Trev could see. This must have been where Cassandra’s main collection lived. The windows here stretched from floor to ceiling, framed by a set of soft yellow curtains. A circular light hung above everything lighting the room up. 

“There’s a bathroom in here, so we don’t have to share,” Cassandra said, pointing out the door at the back. “So what do you think?”

“I think this is your room,” Trev said. “And I think your favourite colour is yellow.”

“You—” Cassandra blinked and chuckled “—are not wrong.” 

The bag slid off Cassandra’s shoulder and onto the chest of drawers as Trev surveyed the room. She ran her fingers over the sheets. They were soft and smooth. Hell, they were even freshly laundered. 

“Anyway it’s yours. It’s probably easier for you to have an adjoining bathroom.”

“True.” Everywhere Trev looked, she saw Cassandra’s care. 

“All right I’ll leave you to unpack. I’ve stocked the bathroom with supplies if there’s something you need just let me know—”

“Cassandra,” Trev interjected, stepping up close to the taller woman, working her hands over her fingers, twisting and wringing them. “This isn’t too much trouble for you? I took over your room, hell your home.”

Cassandra reached out and placed her hands on Trev’s. Her grip tight enough to stop Trev’s incessant motion. “This isn’t too much. I owe you for far too much.”

“You can’t constantly feel guilty over something I’ve done. _I am_ responsible for my own actions,” Trev pointed out, holding Cassandra’s gaze, hating the brimming guilt she found there. It left a sour taste on her tongue. Her fingers twitched as she resisted the stray urge to brush away the grimace on Cassandra’s lips. “And I don’t regret it.”

Cassandra snorted, a huff of hot air shot from her nostrils. “Trev, trust me when I say I _want_ to do this. I want nothing more than to help you recover. Now if we want to have any kind of late lunch, I should get some food delivered.”

The door shut with a soft click, and Trev sank into the bed. Why had her words made things worse? She was at a loss. How was she ever going to get Cassandra to forgive herself? _Her_ forgiveness clearly wasn’t enough. 

* * *

Cassandra put the dishes away. Their late lunch turned into an early dinner when she knocked on Trev’s door and entered to find her asleep still completely dressed, her helmet placed on the side table. 

Joy came in many forms, some loud and noisy, others quiet and gentle. This one, the one that was filling Cassandra’s chest now, the one that was perched on her lips, it was small, almost unnoticeable. It was a soft fragile thing that flowed and filled the cervices of her chest. Holes she didn’t know existed, holes she thought were filled by work and duty. She couldn’t help but smile. It almost scared her how much she felt like she was going to float away with the emotion. She stood and savoured the feeling for as long as she could before turning away and latching the door behind her. 

Cassandra leaned with her back against the counter, drying her hands on a cloth. Folding her arms, she watched Trev. Music hummed gently from the speakers. Trev had synced her phone up to the audio system the moment they were done with dinner. 

“Come on, it’s your first day here, let me be a gracious host,” Cassandra had said. 

Trev narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to be living here for at least the next few weeks you know?”

“You can do the dishes tomorrow,” she countered.

“Deal.” Trev grinned and made a beeline to her sound system. 

Soft voices sang as a guitar strummed. The melody was familiar as Cassandra tried to place the song. Trev’s back faced her. Her arm braced against the window as she peered out, resting her forehead against the window. 

_Who ever heard such a voice of excitement?  
No man alive had ever been there_

It was drizzling outside. Droplets of water splattered against the windows in a steady rhythm. The sun peeked through the grey clouds, a gleaming ray through the gloom. 

_Staking a claim on an uncharted island  
Oooh it was too much to bear_

Cassandra walked closer, her hand trailing against the edges of her sofa. Her eyes lingering along the line of Trev’s shoulders. They looked achingly sad and lonely. Despite her desire to hug Trev, she resisted it. It didn’t feel appropriate. 

_No man alive had ever been there_

Trev’s breath condensed against the window. It evaporated only to reform again and again. Cassandra could see a faint reflection of Trev’s face in the glass. The droplets formed patterns against her reflection. It looked almost like she was crying. 

_I think it was born of the feeling  
That I got when I left from your home_

This was merely the first day, but if things were going to be like this, Cassandra could get used to it. The quiet contentment, the warmth buzz of bliss that tingled all the way to her toes. She could be satisfied with this. 

_Oh I waited and waited and waited and waited  
To get back that feeling I'd known_

A tablet rested on the coffee table — Trev’s old one. The screen said “Device is disabled. Try again in five minutes.” A weight shifted in Cassandra’s chest. Trev had been trying and failing to remember. She sighed as a rustling drew her attention. Trev had turned around, letting the curtain fall, her checks were wet. Standing up, Cassandra reached out. “Why are you crying?”

Tears beading across her lashes, Trev blinked, “I am?” 

Cassandra resisted the urge to brush those tears away, she kept her hands by her side instead. Trev rubbed at her face and was surprised to find them wet. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I wasn’t sad or anything.”

“Come on.” Cassandra allowed herself to touch Trev’s elbow and guided her to the sofa. 

The sofa dipped a little under their combined weight. Trev’s shoulder pressed against hers. For a while, they sat in companionable silence. Cassandra’s arm twitched, the instinctive need to pull Trev into a hug rising up. Trev looked like she needed it. Cassandra settled for leaning back against Trev’s shoulder. 

“Cassandra.” Trev broke the silence. “Did my brothers get in contact?” Her arms were braced against her knees, her eyes cast ahead but not really looking at anything in particular. “I mean if I am the Inquisitor, the shooting must have made the news. I don’t think my father would have gotten in contact, but maybe one of my brothers might have…” Lifting her head, she twisted her neck so that their eyes met. 

Cassandra blinked. Was this why Trev had been trying to remember her passcode? She had the answers Trev sought. They were on the tip of her tongue, but the words tasted bitter. 

Sensing something was amiss, Trev looked away again. “Have I not spoken about my family?” She chuckled, it was a dry and painful sound. Shards of old rusted metal cutting, stabbing and drawing blood. 

“No, you did not. I only know the basic information from our initial investigation.”

Trev nodded, her gaze was cast into the middle distance, but she was seeing something else now. “Jon, Chris and Theo.”

“Your brothers,” Cassandra said, remembering the names from the report. Trev was the youngest of four and the only daughter. “Reginald and Ashlyn Trevelyan, your parents.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Trev replied dully. “You got them all correct. Well I can guess they hadn’t so much as called to ask about me then?” Eyes squeezed shut, her brow had a furrow that went bone deep. 

Cassandra bit her lip and rested a hand against Trev’s shoulder. Trev’s arm was stiff, muscles corded with a tension that had nowhere to go. She didn’t know what exactly went on with Trev’s family, but the records showed Ashlyn Trevelyan passed away the day her only daughter was born, complications from childbirth. The age gap between Reginald Trevelyan’s youngest son and his only daughter was a good ten years apart. Trev, no doubt, had a childhood of privilege. The Trevelyans were a prominent Ostwickan family, old money rich, not unlike the Pentaghasts. Reginald Trevelyan was also a Bann, a citizen honoured for his contribution to Ostwick. But how happy could Trev’s childhood be if she was estranged from her family?

Josephine had intended to lean on Trev’s family connections and her father’s influence in the Free Marchers’ political landscape, but Trev put her foot down against it without offering an explanation. A letter arrived later bearing the Trevelyan’s crest. Its content decrying Trev’s actions and her position as Inquisitor had been answer enough to the unspoken question. 

“You didn’t have a good relationship with your family,” Cassandra guessed. 

Trev snorted. “That’s putting it mildly, but you’d think they’d want to find out if their sister is, you know, alive? You’d think they’d call or something. We’re living in the 21st century, they could just send a fucking email right?”

“Trev.” 

“I mean I was — am — the Inquisitor, this news should have made it to Ostwick too.”

“Trev.” Cassandra squeezed her shoulder. 

“But I guess they don’t care. They never did.”

“Trev!”

She looked up, shaken out of her tirade. Her eyes wide and tears were filling them again. 

“Breathe, Trev,” Cassandra said, reaching over so that she planted both hands on Trev’s shoulders. It wasn’t a panic attack, but she wanted to head off Trev’s temper if at all possible. 

Trev took a shuddering breath, dashing away her tears angrily. “I’m okay,” she said, trying to shrug off Cassandra’s hands. “I really am fine.” 

But Cassandra held firm. “You’re not, and that’s okay,” she replied, squeezing Trev’s shoulders again. “But it isn’t what you think.”

Their eyes met. Trev’s mismatched eyes were filled with a faraway longing that had long suffered disappointment after disappointment. Despite that, the fire of hope still smouldered. Cassandra set her jaw. As much as she wanted to spare Trev’s feelings, it would do her no good wondering. She needed the solid ground of the truth. 

“A Rift opened right in the middle of Manor Trevelyan.”

Trev flinched. The tension ran across her body near buzzed under Cassandra’s fingers. “How bad was it?” The question was uttered in such hushed tones, she must know the answer to it. 

If Trev had to ask, it just showed how much she had lost. Cassandra closed her eyes. She could still hear it. The hum that accompanied every Rift she encountered. The larger the Rift, the louder the hum. It vibrated the air, fluttering against her skin, drilling into her skull. The Rift crackled with energy, throwing the stench of burnt ozone with every whip of its green lightning arcs. Even the smallest Rift had the width and height of a double decker bus. 

“From the reports Harding sent, the Manor still stands, but it isn’t liveable.”

“So all of them…” Trev’s voice came to an abrupt halt, like the next word would shatter her. 

Cassandra hadn’t been there when Trev got the news the first time. She was away on another mission. Josephine was the one who broke it to her. It was a week later when she returned to find a very different Skyhold, quieter and more subdued. The spark had gone out of Trev. She still visited Herald’s Rest, but she drank more than usual. Cassandra couldn’t put a finger on why until Leliana whispered the news to her. But before she could seek Trev out, the Inquisitor left on a mission of her own, by the time she returned it was like nothing had ever happened. Her emotions were quietly packed away and compartmentalised. 

This time… Cassandra reached out and placed her hands on Trev’s clenched tight fists. “Yes, they are gone.”

A shaky laugh burst from her lips. “They are dead, and I forget even that,” she slammed a fist against her thigh. “Fuck, what else do I not remember?”

This time Cassandra was here, and she held Trev in her arms as Trev wept those tears she had shed once, mourning a family long gone. Whatever her relationship Trev had with them, it still hurt her. Reaching out across the years and the fog of Trev’s damaged memory to wrap its claws around her heart. Outside the storm returned with a vengeance, lightning arced across the sky as thunder roared its displeasure. Cassandra helped Trev to her feet as her sobs subsided. The song whispered on as they shuffled back towards Trev’s new room. She pulled back the covers and eased Trev’s shuddering body under them. Carefully, she removed Trev’s helmet and placed it within reach. Trev buried her face into the pillows, tears soaking into the fresh sheets. Even as Cassandra brushed her fingers against Trev’s short stubbly hair, soothing her, she could still hear the song drifting in from the living room. It hit her. Trev had listened to this exact song back at Skyhold. That was why it was familiar.

_Well we didn't make it together  
But I didn't go it alone_

The words wended its way in. Lyrics spoke of something more than she understood. Her soft eyes looked upon Trev, taking in the grief that was riddled across her rigid body. Cassandra sent a silent prayer to the Maker to give Trev strength to weather her trials. Most of all, she promised to be a better friend to Trev. 

_See the feeling was no longer tethered  
To the sweetheart it used to call home_

As the song ended, and the next one played on seamlessly. Cassandra didn’t leave until Trev was taken by sleep. 

**Lyrics taken from[No Man Alive by Tall Heights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9NuRee3Yukc)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


End file.
